OK, there is no t-shirt. And when I tried to request a free bumper sticker (Prepare for The Rapture--May 21, 2011!) from WeCanKnow.com, they denied my request. I'm guessing the sheer embarrassment of all their misplaced certainty and their thousands of billboards worldwide is weighing heavily on their minds right now, and this is too consuming to allow for the time to put a bumper sticker in the mail for me, one of the Damned (but the correct Damned!).
So, as you may or may not know, one reason I am especially glad that the world did not end over the weekend is that I find myself 'with child'. Or, 'with a bun in the oven'. Or, 'in a delicate condition', as Mary likes to say. I really like the term 'knocked up', but I think that there is an air of it being unplanned, and maybe an element of not really being in a relationship with the father. Neither of this is true, much to the delight of my parents.
Besides some morning/noon/night sickness from weeks 7-11, I think I've had a pretty easy time here. I've basically just continued to live my life, with the exception of a few nights when I've lapsed into a mini-coma sometime around 9PM. It helps that I have a husband who will do just about anything I need, from avoiding Mexican food (my latest and strongest aversion), to getting me one of those weird Snoogle body pillows (and sharing a bed with it), to going to the store for lemonade late in the evening. He rubs my back, makes sad faces when I throw up (but leaves me alone like I want him to), and tells me he will still love me when I put on maternity clothes stuffed with pillows in the stomach area and say "This is what you're looking forward to!" He's probably the best husband ever, and he's mine, all mine! Bwa-hahahaha!
Tomorrow, we get to go in and take a look at what's been going on in there over the last 6 weeks, which is when we got to see the baby for the first time. Back then, they were just making sure I wasn't having twins. The baby looked like a little kidney bean with eyes. This is the ultrasound where they tell us if everything is developing normally, where they measure his or her little baby bones and all that. Since I don't necessarily feel pregnant, and I don't really look pregnant (just a little 'too much pizza and beer'-ish, maybe), it's sometimes hard to imagine that I've got this little peanut baby in there. It's reassuring to hear its heartbeat and to know that whatever I'm doing is keeping it safe and sound and healthy--even when I get tangled up in my bike pedals and tip over in the gas station parking lot, or when I eat only crackers and hummus for lunch for like 2 weeks.
Anyway, I'm glad the Rapture didn't happen. That would have been SUCH a bummer.
xo
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Top Ten Things I Will Miss This Summer If The Rapture Happens On Saturday
10. The final Harry Potter movie. Oh, did you just think of that, too?
9. Basillica Block Party (Ray Lamontagne and Gomez are playing!), Rock the Garden (My Morning Jacket is playing!), and the Black Keys (THE BLACK KEYS!).
8. Grilling with our neighbors, who happen to be my best friend and her boyfriend.
7. Finally wearing those sweet maternity clothes I've been buying for months.
6. Reading the latest Yann Martel book (even though I've pretty much hated everything he's written other than Life of Pi).
5. Going to the cabin! It's not a summer without the cabin.
4. Rooftop bars in the summer (even though, if you could imagine that The Rapture doesn't actually happen, I won't be able to enjoy beer).
3. Wearing giant sunglasses.
2. Bike rides around the lakes (picnics optional).
1. Popsicles.
9. Basillica Block Party (Ray Lamontagne and Gomez are playing!), Rock the Garden (My Morning Jacket is playing!), and the Black Keys (THE BLACK KEYS!).
8. Grilling with our neighbors, who happen to be my best friend and her boyfriend.
7. Finally wearing those sweet maternity clothes I've been buying for months.
6. Reading the latest Yann Martel book (even though I've pretty much hated everything he's written other than Life of Pi).
5. Going to the cabin! It's not a summer without the cabin.
4. Rooftop bars in the summer (even though, if you could imagine that The Rapture doesn't actually happen, I won't be able to enjoy beer).
3. Wearing giant sunglasses.
2. Bike rides around the lakes (picnics optional).
1. Popsicles.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Kumquat
And a balmy hello to you all (Mary, my father-in-law Peter, and maybe Ken)!
I have two things stuck in my craw at the moment. First, there was some bad weather last night, and the news channels dutifully broke into the evening programming to let us know that our homes and lives were in danger. They broke in when Dancing With the Stars and Glee were showing. Big, huge mistake. The local ABC affiliate said that they received mail with wording so strong, they couldn't read it on the radio! Apparently, people were irate that they had to wait awhile longer to figure out which washed-up has been was eliminated from a dancing show, or how the whiny kid on Glee would handle being nominated (or was it not nominated?) for prom queen.
Yes, how dare they give us warning to go to the basement, or let us know that our neighbors were in danger. What could they possibly have been thinking?
And this brings me to what's stuck in my craw: When did TV become so important to us as a society? What else could we be doing with our time? Seriously, people. With all the ways we can access our information, is it really a huge deal that the news stations decided to delay your TV gratification to give out pertinent and vital information? Is that worth a letter?
I'm not saying I don't watch TV. I do. Some days, I watch quite a bit. However, I like to think that I am emotionally unattached to the TV. If I came home and discovered my TV had been stolen, I wouldn't run out and replace it immediately. Sometimes I think that if I wasn't married, I might even go without owning a TV altogether. I would actually like to go a year without TV and see what happens. Maybe I'd write my novel (or at least a children's book), or take up hiking, or plant a garden, or at least read more books.
The main thing is that I'm afraid to bring children into a world where people write nasty letters to news stations for delaying the results of a stupid reality show, or an even stupider fictional show, in the name of providing potentially-life-saving information. That's all.
The other thing bugging me, sort of along the same lines, is that I'm afraid of bringing a child into a world in which they may someday see someone reading a book in an old movie and ask me, "Mommy, what is that man doing?"
There is nothing inherently wrong with technology, nothing at all. I owe a lot of the good things in my life--most importantly, the chance to have a relationship with someone halfway across the world--to technology. But I cannot express the sadness I have over what I think is the imminent extinction of the printed word.
A few weeks ago, Chris and I went to a Borders store on their last day of business. They were shutting down, presumably, because people are turning away from physical books towards e-books on Kindles, or their iPad or whatever. The store was a graveyard of literature. The woman working behind the counter seemed depressed about the closing of the store, and maybe a little shocked at how quickly it had happened. I was a little shocked, too.
So, I'm making a commitment. I will buy children's books now, and when my baby arrives, I will start reading to it immediately. Not from a Kindle, but from a real, tangible, colorful, paper book. And he or she will be able to turn the pages, and will appreciate the weight of a book in his or her hands. And if they stop making books altogether, I will make books for him or her.
I have about 7 1/2 months to learn how to make a book...
xo
I have two things stuck in my craw at the moment. First, there was some bad weather last night, and the news channels dutifully broke into the evening programming to let us know that our homes and lives were in danger. They broke in when Dancing With the Stars and Glee were showing. Big, huge mistake. The local ABC affiliate said that they received mail with wording so strong, they couldn't read it on the radio! Apparently, people were irate that they had to wait awhile longer to figure out which washed-up has been was eliminated from a dancing show, or how the whiny kid on Glee would handle being nominated (or was it not nominated?) for prom queen.
Yes, how dare they give us warning to go to the basement, or let us know that our neighbors were in danger. What could they possibly have been thinking?
And this brings me to what's stuck in my craw: When did TV become so important to us as a society? What else could we be doing with our time? Seriously, people. With all the ways we can access our information, is it really a huge deal that the news stations decided to delay your TV gratification to give out pertinent and vital information? Is that worth a letter?
I'm not saying I don't watch TV. I do. Some days, I watch quite a bit. However, I like to think that I am emotionally unattached to the TV. If I came home and discovered my TV had been stolen, I wouldn't run out and replace it immediately. Sometimes I think that if I wasn't married, I might even go without owning a TV altogether. I would actually like to go a year without TV and see what happens. Maybe I'd write my novel (or at least a children's book), or take up hiking, or plant a garden, or at least read more books.
The main thing is that I'm afraid to bring children into a world where people write nasty letters to news stations for delaying the results of a stupid reality show, or an even stupider fictional show, in the name of providing potentially-life-saving information. That's all.
The other thing bugging me, sort of along the same lines, is that I'm afraid of bringing a child into a world in which they may someday see someone reading a book in an old movie and ask me, "Mommy, what is that man doing?"
There is nothing inherently wrong with technology, nothing at all. I owe a lot of the good things in my life--most importantly, the chance to have a relationship with someone halfway across the world--to technology. But I cannot express the sadness I have over what I think is the imminent extinction of the printed word.
A few weeks ago, Chris and I went to a Borders store on their last day of business. They were shutting down, presumably, because people are turning away from physical books towards e-books on Kindles, or their iPad or whatever. The store was a graveyard of literature. The woman working behind the counter seemed depressed about the closing of the store, and maybe a little shocked at how quickly it had happened. I was a little shocked, too.
So, I'm making a commitment. I will buy children's books now, and when my baby arrives, I will start reading to it immediately. Not from a Kindle, but from a real, tangible, colorful, paper book. And he or she will be able to turn the pages, and will appreciate the weight of a book in his or her hands. And if they stop making books altogether, I will make books for him or her.
I have about 7 1/2 months to learn how to make a book...
xo
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