Sarcomical

If Lucy Fell [in love with the bread maker]

[as you'll see in the first video, lucy was mesmerized by the bread maker, and i'm not surprised,
seeing as this was the first time in her six years that it's been turned on. (yes)
p.s. make sure you turn up your sound.]

[a few moments later, she's still enamored...and then ENTER:  the cat, who she happens to have a tenuous relationship with.
oh, and at the end there? yeah, that's ricky, on my lap.]

The two-week dance...

I know that some of you knew full well what this was going to be about just by looking at the title...and that's because you've been where I am right now. You've felt annoyed, talked yourself into dizzying circles, convinced yourself to see things that weren't there, become inconsolably pissed & irritatingly mopey, and generally lost all sense of your sane self.

You, like me, were waiting to find out if you were pregnant.

The truth is, I am nearing the end of this two-week wait to find out if things "took" (so to speak), and I hate that I'm so aware of every day and every hour and every stupid ache and pain in my body. I hate that I'm thinking about it as much as I am, I hate that I spend energy paying such close attention to each twinge and stitch, I hate that I'm just a tiny bit tempted to visit those gross trying-to-conceive forums where women use "DH" to refer to their "Dear Husbands" (BLEH) and thusly abbreviate every other word while discussing their cervixes in detail (and please don't be offended by my use of the word "gross" there if those spaces were helpful to you, because for all I know by the end of this I may be eating my words and stalking through those sites one day with rabid intensity and a fistful of chocolate).

I also REALLY hate how some people act like our not getting pregnant yet is some sort of hostile act against them and demand "so WHEN are you going to have a baby, already?" as if we are intentionally pausing in the middle of business to say "hey wait a minute, what if we just keep screwing with so-and-so's heads and make them wait a little longer! ohmigod ohmigod let's do it, IT WOULD BE SO HILARIOUS hahaahaaaah!". Really? Do you think that particular question is going to suddenly shed light on our supposed Baby-Despising Eyes? Thaaaat's right. Suddenly it all seems so clear! I don't know what we were thinking! Keeping a baby from you like that. Ah, and apparently Honey, we are supposed to have some sort of "relations" in order to make this happen. Whew, glad that's cleared up.

Honestly.

All that being said, we actually have been trying for a little while and I'm not completely sure how easy it will be for us. But I am (aside from above) trying to be really positive about it. But these last 5 or 6 days, man...they KILL. ME. The sense of resolution feels like it will never arrive. It's a torturous set of days and hours and minutes and seconds...and then (typically) I find out, feel a sense of relief from the sheer act of KNOWING, and set my sights to the next four weeks (often kicked off by picking out my consolation bottle of wine with the prettiest label I can find).

I think I will take delicious delight in being a mother; there's a part of me that longs for the chance to love little cheeks and take an obscene amount of photos of tiny fingernails, but I also try to tell myself that I can be a complete person before that happens, too. Perhaps there is more for me to do, more for me to explore, and I am being given an amazing opportunity to do those things with the freedom my current situation allows. I'll be happy either way, but that doesn't mean I won't continue to anticipate the day when things change.

Oh, distract me. Or tell me, how did you get through those days of limbo? I've pretty much relied heavily on Valentine's Day candy, puppy ears and Law & Order marathons. SIGH.

Things that charmed me this week:

A pitcher of water infused with sliced lemons.

Being warm & insulated during a snowstorm.

A fluffy cat who kept reminding me to pick him up and nuzzle his face.

My ugly, ugly bread machine loaf of olive & feta cheese "Greek Style Bread". It was flat, flat, flat, but I snacked on it all week long.

Sushi Night Fevahhh

Aww, that's right, I've got a fevahhh...and the only cure for it is more cowbell sushi. ENTER: girls' sushi night at the brother- and sister-in-law's home, where said brother-in-law enjoys honing his rolling skills for an audience. The result? An everything-access pass to all-you-can-eat fabulousness until it hurts. And maybe even past hurt into sweet agony. Sweet, sweet agony...

Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?

The discriminating crowd demands nothing less than perfection. And sake.

Polina turned the camera on me & Amber, as we put on brave faces through the pain.

Tempura makes girls happy. So very, very happy.

On an unrelated note, Amber takes a turn about the room with a cane she found very funny at the time. She & I may or may not have practiced waltzing a few seconds later. I'm not sure. You'll have to wonder.

Words. Words escape me.

Ben finally takes a moment to make a plate for himself, after we all wept Uncle.

Here, Ben tells Polina that our next culinary gathering will be...

(wait for it)

...

(wait for it)

...

CURRY NIGHT!

Oh. my dear. sweet. Lord.

Rain On the Pretty Ones

i'm the actor who's scared to perform
i'm the sunshine that hides in the clouds
i'm the father that couldn't be found
i'm the cuckoo that never flew south
i'm the christian that cannot forgive
i'm the dreamer that jumps off the bridge
i'm the sinner who hates how he lives...
i'm the liar who gets what he gives.
-Ed Harcourt, Rain On the Pretty Ones

There are moments, still. Moments when I am hit with a swell of certainty that I have abandoned myself. I pause, overwhelmed by the chasm that separates me from the quiet, patient shadow that I some days am barely aware exists. What's worse is when I go days or weeks without even thinking about the fact that I miss her.

She tells me to remember how hard I've worked to make impossible things happen in my past.
She wishes I would not stuff down my desire to become a traveler because of fear.
She'd like to kick me in the ass for pretending this is enough.
She reminds me how much participating in the comaraderie of musicians meant to me.
She challenges me to take risks in my art.
She wonders if I'll allow myself to fail.
She asks if I've forgotten the exhilaration of performance.
She urges me to become fully passionate with the wreckless abandon of a child.
She can't comprehend giving so much power to my own critical voice.
She wants me to stop lying to myself about me.

*Feed reader folks, there's a video in this post. This song makes my soul ache and swirl. Please give it a listen.

Fancypants Teatime

Sis-in-law Polina & I had "high tea" today at local eatery Serendipity. (We were [SO VERY this close] to donning our fake British accents.) They served us three different teas, the hands-down favorite being the dessert tea...a mind-numbing chocolate flavor. The adventure began with a cranberry spritzer "to cleanse your palates", touted our hostess, and included an evil Tower of Treats atop a tray of wee sandwiches. I can now  say I have fully lived, having tasted the stacked concoction comprised of blueberry toast and cheese. WHAT? Yes.

Target