Lacey Loves To Read

Each year our community, Lacey, sponsors an event called "Lacey Loves To Read." It simultaneously promotes literacy and raises money for our local libraries (which are now in the merciless clutches of state funding problems).

Last year, we were just moving to Washington, and we missed the event, though we gathered it was a rather large shindig. This year, I got in on the action.

The author Lacey invited to read to us was Sy Montgomery: a scientist and fabulous animal writer. She's got four or five adult books (about man eating tigers, pink dolphins, a giant pig, and maybe a couple more). Additionally, she's got tons of informative, interesting kids books that have the most gorgeous photographs.

My book group read The Good Good Pig in honor of Sy's speaking engagement. The book is a non fiction account of the runt of the runt litter, Christopher Hogwood, and how he came to be rescued by Sy and her husband. The next fourteen years proved to be one adventure after another, and Christopher opened doors Sy would never have dreamed possible.

Someone likened the book to Marley and Me, but it really wasn't. It was even more feel good than Marley (which I LOVED). But this book talks about the goodness in the world, in animals, and in humans who are open enough to recognize life and hope in our families (both blood families and those families we form through purposeful engagement).

So last night Sy came to town, and our book group was invited to have dinner with her. She was marvelous, and had the quaintest New Hampshire accent. Her stories of her animals, family, and travel were engaging. You just wanted to be friends with her.

To recap: Lacey Loves to Read is a fun and needed annual activity, Sy Montgomery is an author worth reading, and nature books don't have to be dull and textbook-ish.

Oh Army Stuff...

Occasionally Bob has to go to what is called a "Dining In." It is where all the officers and NCOs in his unit get dressed up in their dress blues and have dinner together- and do not invite their wives. And on very rare occasions, they have a "Dining Out" where they do the same thing and invite their wives.

So I guess the Officers' Spouses Club came up with this idea for the wives to get dressed up using some part of their husbands' uniform and to have a theme (ours was "Cooking up Arrowhead Success." -Hence the 1-14 aprons. Oh, and the Stetsons).

You might think this would be a fun evening, but you'd be wrong. It was a colossal waste of an evening, I think. It might have been different if I could have partaken in the fun cocktails they had available. Actually no... even those enjoying the drinks agreed it was really lame.

But you know what? Sometimes you just have to show up and smile. I don't know who writes the rules, but they do exist.

I'm thinking I won't be able to find a babysitter next year though...

The JAG ladies. I thought their costumes were adorable. Wigs with toilet paper rolls: very clever. This handsome gent is our Cavalry Trooper, and usually lives in our unit conference room. On this night, he graced our table as the center piece. Needless to say, we had the tallest table display of all the units.

Arrowhead pride! I feel like I should add a Hooah or something. But I won't.

Say WHAT?

I was in Olympia the other night getting a haircut after school. As I was driving home, I drove through this warehouse section of the city and saw this billboard on a huge, decrepit building:

"Basement dwellers lovefest: February 14th at Midnight."

Ummm... how freaky does that sound? And it begs two questions: what exactly are basement dwellers, and are love fests legal?

I wish it had been day light when I saw the sign. I certainly would have taken a picture of it to share.

Only in Washington.

Happy V.D.

In high school I had this photography teacher named Mr. Fisher. He was tough, talented, and openly gay. And he had the driest sense of humor I've ever encountered. One time he was showing us a touch aperture on a camera and quipped that feature was designed for the blind photographer. I was the only one laughing, and I felt like I was going straight to hell for laughing at a blind person's expense. But it was a joke! (One that couldn't be used in the classroom now, I think).

Because I laughed, and maybe because I shot quality work, Mr. Fisher took a liking to me. My senior year of high school, I walked into his classroom on Valentine's Day, and he wished me a straight-faced, "Happy V.D. Liz." Again, I laughed, this time with my face on fire in a painful blush. There was something poignant about being surrounded by stoners and having venereal disease mentioned to you by your gay man art teacher.

Now, I laugh every time I think of it. And every year I wish my (adult) friends a "Happy V.D." Their reactions are nearly all the same: 'What? Oh, yeah... that's pretty funny. (In a twisted way, no doubt).'

Mr. Fisher, wherever you are... your humor is still weird, and I still love it.

Threatcon: Orange

Oh man... last weekend was rough! Bob was in California for a week and a half training, and Friday all hell broke loose. I woke up in the middle of the night in a bed soaked with blood. SCARY! I got up, stripped the bed, took a shower, and then proceeded to drive myself to the emergency room 20 miles away on post. -Except that I was out of gas!

As I stood there, pumping gas into the Mini at 1:30 a.m., it struck me as absolutely ridiculous that real life is like this. My life was crumbling around me, and I had to stop for a logistical problem: lack of fuel.

I was in the emergency room all night. One hour in the waiting room, and four hours in my own little room hooked up to little tubes. The doctor came in and out, ran blood tests, did other uncomfortable tests... and then informed me I was in the middle of a miscarriage. There was nothing they could do there at the E.R. I would have to go home and let it play out. She said the hormone levels had dropped, and that she was 80% sure this was what was happening. And she said, "It's nothing you did. You can get pregnant again, etc." I cried and cried. My heart broke on that table. Meanwhile Bob could not be reached on the phone.

The next day, Saturday, I talked to Bob. He flew home that night, and we spent a tense Sunday preparing ourselves for either outcome we would learn about the following day at the OB E.R. Monday morning, we are the first people at the hospital when the OB opened. The doctor came in, got the facts about Friday, and did an ultrasound. The baby was fine. In fact it has nearly doubled in size since I saw it last. It turns out I have sub chorionic bleeding, which affects 1% pregnancies, but has NOTHING to do with the baby.

We were relieved.... and then FURIOUS at the E.R. doc. Why didn't she order an ultrasound, send me up to labor and delivery, keep me for observation? That's what the OB said too.

The flowers in the picture are ones Bev sent me to comfort/ rejoice with me. Whichever the situation called for. Happily, we are still in production. Aren't the colors lovely? So vibrant and lovely.

Now I cannot handle ANY more drama. I can't stand drama anyway... especially in my own life.

We are now lowering the threat level to green. All systems go.

Give and Take

First of all... can I just say "Whoa!" I was just Google Imaging "Pregnant Yoga" for this post, and I stumbled across this picture. I am simultaneously freaked out (that thing wants OUT!) and marveling (it's real, and it has a FOOT!).

But that's not what I want to write about today. I appreciate the comments left today, and I took them to heart. Here is what happened after school: I went and joined a gym that offers prenatal yoga, aerobics, and swimming classes. It's the nicest gym I've ever seen, and I've always wanted to belong to a gym like this. (And it's cheaper than the guitar lessons I recently stopped taking). I'm thinking these classes will allow me to meet women expecting babies around the same time as I am, and they will be fitness minded. SO we will organize a stroller running group after the creature attached to that foot (!) arrives. I think it's a brilliant plan.

Then I went to Old Navy. I tried on 10s and they fit perfectly. Well that won't do. I would only wear them for the next two weeks or so. So I did something I've never done... I bought 12s. And you know what? They looked nice. They were still flattering (I think they could have passed for 10s, except they were baggy in the rear. I'm hoping to grow a normal, round hiner in this process though, so it will be okay). Also, they were super comfy, and there is plenty of room to grow. And I think I'll be able to wear them pretty soon after delivering, thus sparing my sanity. I'm sure I'll want my body back PRONTO. Oh, also I bought some flowy tops that I've never bought before. I always was afraid they would make me look pregnant. Now I'm like 'What the hell? I am pregnant! Let them think what they want!'

I feel almost zen like... having honored the ancient yin and yang. I bought bigger pants, but I joined a gym. It all evens out in the end, right? I should be set until it's time to wear real pregnancy clothes. And I think I'll let my body dictate when that will be instead of freaking out over random message boards on babycenter.com.

Thank you for your help, ladies. It takes a village, and all that jazz.

Ugh!

Getting dressed is getting tricky, and I'm feeling panicked. Here is my conundrum: in the morning, my normal clothes fit fine (maybe a tad snug). But by the evening, I feel like I look four months pregnant.

Earlier this year I purged all my size 10 pants. I gave them to the Good Will, because I was comfortably wearing any eights from any store. (Hooray!) I was happy being there. There were a couple of years in college (and one in Germany) when eights were my goal, and it almost seemed unattainable. For the last few years, I've successfully kicked the 10s to the curb.

Jump to now: I'm ready to go back to Good Will and see if they will give my pants back! I'm Googling the following topics: "When is the average time when people start wearing maternity clothes?" and "Should I buy bigger pants or go straight to maternity?"

Here are the helpful answers. "Oh, I'm 25 weeks, and I WISH I could wear pregnancy clothes. I lost 10 pounds in my first trimester due to morning sickness!" "I just wear my husband's clothes, and that seems to work just fine."
That's not helpful, because that's NOT ME... I've been starving since I found out I was expecting this blessed miracle. And there is no way I'm wearing Bob's clothes.

So I think the answer is this: buy some more size 10 pants. It will take a (little?) while to get back in those lovely 8s after the birth of the miracle, I'm sure. So some size 10 pants won't go amiss. Those of you in the know might be saying this: Why not try the Belly Band? It goes over your pants, and you wear said pants unbuttoned. To you I say this: it's weird wearing your pants unbuttoned (and mostly unzipped). Did I mention I teach 13 year olds? One wardrobe malfunction, and I'm toast.

Tomorrow I'll be 9 weeks pregnant. I plan to try the Belly Band, and I'll be going to Old Navy after work for some cheap size ten pants.