6 weeks- bun in oven

Well, I didn’t think I was pregnant due to my normal premenstrual crabbiness and my tender titties- the only difference was that I was super crabby and super tender and yes, I am pregnant. I feel a little like a super hero with my super sense of smell and my super sensitive mood that can switch on an off like a person with multiple personalities. I also seem to get away with too much with my husband because of this little bun in my oven- my side kick for the time being. And there is something working hard down there, below my tummy and above my bladder, like little Keebler elves baking cookies in my uterus. Working tireless all day and all night mixing and kneading dough and prepping the oven. Too bad I don’t smell like a bakery.

Suddenly I am clueless about what to do and not to do-especially NOT to do. Every time I get an ant bite, I think I’m going to have a half ant half human baby. This whole chemistry project in my uterus is crazy, because all of a sudden you have to follow these weird set of rules, and they vary slightly depending on opinion- totally sci-fi if you ask me. And I’m not even going to approach the subject of bringing life into the world. I have a little less than 9 months to contemplate that whopper. Mmm...whoppers...

Finding information quickly from a verified source is a journey in it self. After taking the pregnancy pee stick test, it’s a waiting game. It’s a don’t-tell-anyone-till-we-know-it’s-safe game. Your first visit isn’t until 8-10 weeks out- and in between that time there is a whole universe of questions that you have to find on your own. And now- only 6 weeks pregnant, I don’t feel particularly pregnant, besides the Keebler elves hard at work down there, I have no morning sickness or constipation, I do however pee a lot (which makes road trips tricky)  and contemplate how I will tell my family this news. And yet after waiting so long, it seems like it would be easy to say nothing and let the stomach do the telling.

Side note: Right now this bump on my tummy is my fat bump even though I pretend it’s a baby bump and I’m curious how it will spread as I gain baby weight. I kinda wish my baby would eat my fat- that would be ideal…

8 weeks-

At first not telling was kind of nice…now almost 2 months pregnant, I’m aching to tell my family so the excitement can spread and fill me with hope and love. It’s a little depressing not saying anything. I’m choosing not to say anything until I know that the baby is O.K. and my first appointment isn’t until next week. In fact I haven’t really come to grips that I am having a baby. Right now I’m just pregnant, which means for me that my breasts are inflated and tender and my belly is bloated and gassy-I’m like a swelling balloon-and by the time 9pm comes along I get all giddy because in 45 minutes I will be fast asleep bear gripping my pillow.

I was in Savers the other day and I dared to look at the baby clothes. Since I haven’t told anyone yet, I felt like I was cheating. And yet here at home I have been slowly preparing- clearing out my art room making way for my opus- my newest creation, a collaboration of sorts. Busting my ass trying to get the rocks on the side of the house cleared out, before I get too big to haul. I’m even going to try and finish painting the back porch and eves….wish me luck on that one.

Andy and I are both in suspension, just waiting for time to go by until our first prenatal visit, meanwhile skirting questions from both our mom’s and family. My aunt just became a grandma of twins and her jubilee has rubbed off on my mom to a degree of pestering. Grandma envy. And on top of that, one of the problems I have is the feeling that I’m riding off my cousins’ wave of pregnancy.  As though I got pregnant because she did-which to be clear is not the case. When you are in your 30’s and you want a family time is ticking by quickly. I am hoping however, that the benefit of coming in second will be good hand-me-downs…(fingers crossed)
So for two months now life has been boring on the surface, and yet underneath a torrent of emotional storms.

10 weeks.

Now I am in week mode- a new time language my midwife says i have to learn. After our first prenatal visit we came away with little information but a nice introduction to the facility and we walked out with a big decision to make. By the time the first visit came along, I had already found out most of my immediate queries by one way or the other. We soon realized that not telling people is kinda pointless. The bottom line is won’t know if the baby is O.K. till much later- and that is not even a guarantee. So what’s the point of not telling? By sharing our news we soon gain a circle of support from our family and friends. What happens, good or bad, I would rather face knowing there are people who care about my situation and support and pray for me rather than to carry that burden alone.



 

The summer ended with a torrent of storms. It was as though even the desert was sick and tired of the heat- it chased summer out with hard rain even the thirsty ground couldn’t keep up with the pounding water- we were all drowning in a glory of water. It took 4 days of rain to kick summer out of the season.

Inside my little house, my little life, the rain drummed on my little rooftop- clickity clak, clickity clak, clickity clak.

Where do the bee’s go when it rains? The hummingbirds’ glory in its aftermath, the birds shake off the rain and reappear, and if their beaks could smile they would. The cacti swell in pride the rain keeps them satisfied till spring. If I could only capture all this water efficiently like the cactus, to be able to store it and use all of it- this gold of the desert.

The one good thing about trying something new is learning something new, especially if you fail the first time. In hindsight, it’s not so bad failing when you discover something important. The first month when we gave it a try we went sober after the deed. (And by the way, I don’t think there is a good way to say “trying to have a baby”, I always thought it just meant having unprotected sex- but now I know what it means to “try”- it really means to calculate- to know thyself well.)

All I could think about was having a drink. Watching a TV series when they poured themselves a small glass of whiskey, I was licking my lips in envy. So when my period came, I was like awesome, now I can drink. And besides that, boy did I need one- the stress that we put ourselves through that month was overwhelming. So I drank, and came across a couple of new discoveries about myself.

I went a whole 2 weeks or so without a drink, and I still woke up feeling shitty. I stopped having constant symptoms of IBS. (Refreshing if you ask me.) Yet time slowed down, now I had to fill in time or sleep it away, and I realized that booze was a good quickener of Time.

I like to drink- but I don’t like the habit of what surrounds the drink in recent times. I have realized that the memory of drink is much better then the actual reality of drink. So going forward on a round 2 of our trying, I realized that I don’t need to crave the alcohol, that I can satisfy it with other things. It’s time to try something new, my friends and I’m lucky that I have a strong enough reason to change my habits.

So on this round I’ve been experimenting with faux-drinks to satiate my cravings, and they work just fine. The worst part has been dealing with time. There are a couple of factors that are against me.

One, being unemployed; Two, the endless summer that is called August (and unfortunately it has spilled itself into September). My time outside is allotted to the early morning before it gets too hot outside. I still haven’t picked up a paintbrush in a long while, and I’ve run out of creative projects to do (another rant for another time). The most I’ve been doing these days is a little canning here and there, but that’s not near enough to fill my creative quota. August is a mean devil here in Tucson, and I still haven’t figured away to make it out on top.

So it seems I’m yet again at a strange bridge in my life. Something’s gotta change or this dam of life is going to break. There is not just a fork in the road, but a whole pile of them all shinny and reflective in the sun, and here I stand in the kitchen, looking in the drawer wondering where all my forks went.

Waiting for my period never seemed like such an event until today. For about 10 years I’ve been on birth control and in all that time my period was never late, except for last Thanksgiving- I was a week late. But I blame that on the stress of the holiday- or some weird blip in my cycle. My body is tried and true. I can usually tell when I’m about to have my period, even if I don’t calendar it. I’m annoyed at whomever is around me, I get bloated, and have headaches- certain things on my body swell- kinda like the doors in my house during the monsoons. Every month I go through the same thing- only this month, this time, I wasn’t so sure what I was feeling. Am I pregnant or premenstrual? What I am usually so sure of is now a big ball of confusion. You see I’ve never been pregnant before, so I just don’t know what to expect.

Even though I have never been pregnant, I have my ideas of what it must be like. I’ve read novels and have always chuckled when a woman knows right away when she’s pregnant. Ha! How could she…? Could I…? Would I feel a fluttering in my womb? The waves the little sperm make to get to my egg? Would I feel it? And the day after, would I start to transform like a mutant, or a superhero undergoing immediate changes? Would I have that “glow” the day after, or does that happen later?

Well considering that I can’t feel it when my egg drops from my fallopian tube, I highly doubt that I would feel conception. But who knows, right? That’s the messed up thing about this whole situation. When you start trying to have a baby every little sensation seems inflated because you are trying.

Last week everything tasted differently, I was emotional even a little dizzy, and what’s this….? I think I was nauseous too. Is this what it’s like to be pregnant? Shall I write it down and document this to read back to my kid in the future? I now understand the meaning of “phantom pregnancy”; even small degrees of it- the mind can be a tricky thing.

Last night my husband and I were walking around the neighborhood and he told me he didn’t know if I was PMS’ing or pregnant- either way he knew I was stressed. It was then that I had my first reality inkling that I was indeed not pregnant. I could tell by the way I wanted to snap at him some cold short remark that I was being way too mean to be pregnant….nope this feels like my old regular PMS self to me. Crap. And yes, I was filled with stress- like I just got out of a canning bath and still not cooled off. Having a baby is no light thing to consider, especially after years of choosing not to have one.

Thoughts of not being able to conceive never really seemed possible until today. My period came, right after a conversation with my husband about buying a pregnancy test. Am I upset because of the possibility of my own inability to conceive or of not being pregnant? There is a difference. I do like to be good at things, and this is no exception.  And although I am someone who likes to do well in class, this particular class is a little scary. Shall I call it “A human experiment”? because that is indeed what this journey feels like to me. Put on your space suit because we are going to Mars.

If you can survive the heat of the desert year after year, I have learned that you can survive practically any other discomfort that comes your way. Not only survive but to learn to embrace it. From Tucson to New Orleans in June, well, I’ve touched 2 different kinds of heat. One chaffed me and the other burned me. In the end, hot is hot, whether you are sticky and wet or dusty and dry.

The heat draws out the sweat and temper in ones head, it makes us move slower and look longer. Our thirst cannot be quenched, but can be drowned with a bottle of ice-cold beer. We become sleepy and restless at the same time.

I look for signs. When those big monsoon clouds embrace Tucson, the excitement in the air is contagious. We are all waiting for those clouds to burst, and when the clouds don’t burst with rain, we burst from our own sweat and deal with our own inner storms. 

The Palo Verde beetle emerges in late June early July- its birth from the ground is a calling that summer is indeed only temporary. The mass of flying queen ants also make themselves known, swarming in a frenzy of excitement. I know when my prickly pear fruit ripen that August is just around the corner. August, the long last run of the summer.

All these things mark the passing of the summer and as each year goes by, the more I look for them in anticipation.

Watching movies such as Street Car Named Desire, and Long Hot Summer make me feel that I’m not alone in the heat. That heat alone creates a good setting for an interesting story and that I may be a part of that story, or of some story. The main object of summer is not to stay cool, but hydrated and to embrace what the desert has to offer during this trying time of the year, because the good news is- is that there will be an ending to this summer story.

Day one: Wednesday
Left Tucson @3am
Flight from Phoenix to Houston delayed because of weather
Run like crazy from one terminal to another to no avail
Miss our connecting flight
Hop on another flight, only an hour delayed in total

Taxi to the place we are staying on Frenchman St
Walk around neighborhood- grab a beer and try to adjust to the humidity
Walk some more.
Go back to house & meet our host
Grab a bite to eat @ Mona’s a Mediterranean restaurant
The chicken shawarma was awesome
Walk back and watch a little Treme before crashing

 

Day two: Thursday

Joanne (our host) makes yummy pancakes
Andy and I head out to take the trolley to the convention center
Trolley isn’t running the full rail length, so we walk some more.

Pick up the trolley at Canal Street only to be taken 2 blocks
We feel sheepish for spending $2.50 for 2 blocks
Find the convention center and we walk some more only now in A/C
Andy picks up his ALA badge and we head back out

We search for a breakfast joint
Still trying to adjust to the humidity- we are sweating bullets
Getting cranky for the lack of protein we snarl and grumble
Stop into Johnny’s po boy right after a group of 15 beat us to it
No matter- it was worth it
Homemade biscuits & gravy with topped with fried chicken

Walk some more and hook up with our pals to go fetch us a bass
We drive onto the Algiers ferry and it whisks us away to the other side
Grab bass, stuff in car and wedge ourselves in as well & head back home
Hang out with pals and grab us some beer at Molly’s

Later that night the whole gang (The El Camino Royals & the Royalettes (the wives))
Go to Vaughan's Lounge to see Kermit (no, not the frog) play his horn.
Packed unsuspecting joint in the middle of some neighborhood

Andrew Zimmern and his crew were their filming Kermit for his Bizarre Foods show-We try to stage ourselves behind every camera shot possible
BBQ smoking, Kermit playing, rain coming down, sweating bodies and cold beer
(There is nothing that quenches thirst like a cold beer on a humid night)

We get a taste of some damn good BBQ- Raccoon, turtle, rabbit and sausage
Too good to be food moral at this point
Andy & I part ways from the group and take a long walk back home
Quiet except for the frogs singing their humble tune

Day 3: Friday

Head to the Quartermaster Deli for some breakfast sandwiches
Would have split one had we known that they were foot long sandwiches
Andy heads to CC & I head for the St Charles Trolley
Run to catch trolley, lady closes door in my face
No matter, not going to let that get me down
Catch another one & head to the garden district

Trolley is packed

Get off trolley, walk a couple of blocks and find that I’m running out of time
Get back on trolley and head to the warehouse district to meet up at Emeril’s with some pals for lunch

Hoity toity  

Waiter asks Joel to take off his hat
Joel looks like a wild man and goes to restroom to fix it
Waiter folds Joel’s napkin when he leaves
And when he arrives places it back on his lap
Water is filled every time we take a couple of sips
We have three waiters roaming around us like a carousel
Food was good, a little on the decadent and rich side
But a great experience
Waiter pressures us to get dessert
We say no
He looks like he might cry

Look at a couple of galleries & meet up with Andy
Go back home and head to another meeting at Jimmy Buffets Margaritaville for Andy’s job
Who thought it was a good idea to hold a meeting in an obnoxious loud restaurant is beyond me
Go back home and get ready to rock n roll with TECR at Check Point Charlies.

First set vocals were muffled-some frat boy was drunk and dancing with his fly down
The bathroom always seems to carry the tune of the place
And it’s the kind of bathroom you put t-pee on the seat- and you have to peal the t-pee off your ass because there is no A/C
Bathroom graffiti read: whiskeytits

Second set, vocals fixed
Got ourselves to dancing and having a great time

Day 4: Saturday
Breakfast @ Café Rose Nicaud- breakfast burrito for Andy and quiche for me
Andy has presentation to give @ the CC, so we part ways
I hoop in Washington Square Park where I sweat like I’m in water
Meet up with Andy for lunch and part ways yet again
I stroll through the Warehouse district where I visit local galleries and
Hit up the Ogden Museum
My feet are so tired I look for a café to sit down
Find an overpriced iced coffee; don’t get to sit down because I meet up with Andy
Andy has one more event to attend so I sit myself down by the riverside people watching and don’t move for 1 1/2 hours- bliss…

Meet up with buddies and head out across the lake for a BBQ @ our buddies in-law’s place

The cause way- 24mile bridge across Lake Pontachartain

Have some great homemade food, jump in pool, lose earring,
Melissa saves the day and rescues earring (like a pearl diver)
Boys play music while us ladies swim in pool, later to be accompanied by two girls who play the diving board game with me- takes me back to when we were kids

Head back across the bridge discussing how to survive if your car sinks in water

Day5: Sunday
Last day.

Breakfast @ Café de Monde- yes, yes was totally worth going to- bypassed the line and found a table and ate incredibly delicious beignets (fried dough covered in powdered sugar) and coffee

 Time to kill we walked to the Lady of Guadalupe church, which was in session, thought I saw a man peeing  in a planter, but can’t be sure
Head behind the church to a cemetery that Marie Laveau was buried in
Sweating balls it’s hot-

Andy and I part ways

I stroll through the French Quarter looking at shops making my way toward the Voodoo Shop- you know you are on Bourbon Street if it smells. Voodoo shop interesting to look, but wouldn’t by that crap- I’m just saying…

Meet up with my pals and we go high- tail- it to a swamp tour- Cajun Encounters

Best decision yet.

Tour guide a heavily spoken Cajun that shared his views on cooking, the government and the swamp- Saw crocs, blue heron, red tail hawk, frogs, and hot damn, the swamp. Awesome all the way, plus we had the best seats in the boat.

Buddies dropped me off and Andy and I went for a drink at a local watering hole- best part was the random cat that came in and made the social rounds.


Went to go to dinner to find that there were lines everywhere- starving and buzzed we got the spicy sausage po’ boys at Gene’s across the street from the house-while delicious, yes, probably not the best thing to eat the night before a flight.

Day 6: Monday
Woke up at 4am
Called cab
Slipped on cat piss on the way out the door
And lickidy split ended up back in sunny AZ

It’s ironic that I can feel a loss of something as well as a relief of that loss. Maybe ironic isn’t the word I’m searching for, and maybe it’s that I am more surprised at how I feel about the loss-which is a little sad and suspecting. I’m not referring to a person but a job- a job loss. One that has been draining me of my ability for some time, but I won’t get into that- it’s now officially in the past. But I have to say that a slight bitter taste remains in my mouth- (foul play? Or death by natural causes?) I know it doesn’t matter, but it’s there, the suspecting thoughts lingering like a bad smell in the air. But on the positive, I feel good, like fate reached down with his big hand and gently moved me forward when I wasn’t able to do so myself.

And now I am born again, only I am 6 years older then last time and wondering if rebirth still has its beauty and charisma. What value do I have to offer this world? Can I compete with the young and agile? Can I throw myself once again on the burning coals that fuel this economy? The world opens up in one second, and in another closes. Opportunity, experience, luck, and willpower on the wheel of life spinning round and round, and here I am at the preface of another turn. So I lift up my glass and proclaim, “To beginnings, to ends, and everything in-between!”

the quietness of my indecision,
the lack of doing for the sake of uncertainty
the imaginary conversations in my head with real people

it does not exist but between the mundane repetitions of life
it is the world of nothing and of nobody
it is where I stand and where I sit

my ear rings with the sound of silence
my inspiration slowly circling down the drain
my eyes glued to the two dimensional screen as they
become more and more unfocused to the distance at length

The days off are a ticking time bomb to the days on
And everything in between is in between

I suspect someone has it out for me, probably the same person who sneaks into my house and moves things around, just to mess with my head. I’m sure of it, just as sure as I am that someone is always watching me through the crack in the window shade or following me in my car. I’m always a little disappointed when the car I think is following me turns. (Shoot, no stalker today.) Of course I don’t really believe this to be true- but I think about it. Even when I was young swimming in Grandpa’s pool- I was sure a shark or something hideous was going to come out of the filter at the bottom of the pool. I always stayed away from it, and avoided touching it at all cost- that thing was creepy.

I’m sure there is a hidden camera in public restrooms, right where the vent in the ceiling is- and it’s always directly above the stall I’m in, covered in dust- nice disguise I think. I used to make faces at it- give the pervo on the other end a laugh.

Of course I don’t really believe this, not really… but I think about it.

I have stopped believing that when appliances, or cars or anything man made breaks that it’s personal- that ain’t supernatural, that’s mechanics. (But that doesn’t mean you slack on it- you got to take care of your crap or you can’t be too surprised when your shit doesn’t work any more.)

I think that when I randomly have an intense memory or feeling about somebody that they are in turn thinking about me- we’re connected through time and space for a few fleeting moments. And when weird things happen to me, the kind that seems sinister, I get a sneaky suspicion that someone who thinks badly of me is behind the sinister act. I don’t know if its just coincidence- but something smells fishy and it ain’t me.

I believe in karma and what comes around goes around way too much to wish bad on someone else. It’s almost superstitious, but wishing someone ill has no benefit to me, and most of the time has the reverse effect. Life sorts out the good and the bad with no rhyme or reason, but it’s what I want to live with that I have to sort out for myself.

.

In the beginning, I remembered you always
In the middle you were hazy but still there
And now, in the present you are changed
Or I am changed

We are divided completely

Time and place captured us like a photo in an album
And besides a few straggling memories
Our friendship can only be cataloged between
Specific dates in the time line of our lives

You wanted something from me
And I wanted something from you
And but for a brief moment in time
We ended up with nothing but ourselves

I look back and think how foolish I was
To hold on to you and the idea of you for so long-
But am thankful that
I eventually let go

When I look at you now
And think of you then,
I see that you were still growing
Changing into the person you wanted to be
And not into the being I thought you would be

And maybe you think the same of me

And so we stand ourselves on separate sides of the road
You looking and me and me looking at you
The distance of time and place
Dividing us completely