Sunday, March 28, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
A few weeks ago my Grandma and Grandpa drove up to visit so Grandma and I could attend Stitches. Stitches is like THE premiere, um.. fiber show? I think it has been decided to go with the term "Fiber Show". "Knitting Convention" conjures up too many images of Trekkies in costume. But if you knit, spin, crochet, or need a reason to spend inordinate amounts of money on hobbies you're not likely to actually pursue, Google "Stitches West" and you'll soon realize why I looked forward to it for months.
The plan was for Grandma and I to take the train to Santa Clara, two hours away. Now I need to back up and remind you that I am a slight control freak (also a genetic trait) when it comes to leaving my house and knowing where I am going. I just never know who I'm going to meet. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was on the verge of tears when Mike my GPS was abducted from my vehicle a year ago. Mapquest, Google maps, whatever...I'm on it. The word "lost" raises my blood pressure lots.
Back to the story-
We're going to drive to the train station, leave the car, take the train where we will arrive within walking distance of the convention center. This will also require that we drive from my home to downtown and will need to leave at the butt-crack of dawn.
The night before we decide that we should really drive the car to the light rail station (much closer to home), leave the car there, take the light rail to the train station down town, then take the train.
Our plan looked to be going brilliantly. We arrived at the light rail in time to figure out how to purchase our tickets and not a single crazy even attempted to approach us. We arrived at the train station in plenty of time to confirm and print our tickets and find the restroom. Still not a single crazy thing had happened and we'd been up for almost three hours. A record considering we had just taken public transportation. We knew we were in the right place based on the number of women knitting in the station and wearing scarves, shawls, and sweaters many in patterns that I recognized.
Then we found out our train was canceled. Other arrangements were made for us. You don't mess with thirty plus women carrying sharp and pointy sticks. The not so short version of the story is that we woke up at 4:30am to take the Light rail station where we left the car, took the light rail to the train station, took the train to one town, got off the train onto a bus, realized it was the wrong bus, got off the bus onto the right one, then onto another train where we arrived in Santa Clara at almost 11:00 am.
Now, the convention center would have been within walking distance had my grandma not been a grandma and me not been seven months pregnant and up since 4:30am. We ended up taking a taxi and setting a record for the types and number of times I'd taken public transportation not just in one day, but in my entire life.
We only met a couple of crazies, but I'm not counting any of them. It turns out who I thought was a crazy dude knitting on the train actually knew his stuff and was extremely helpful. I even took his card, have read his blog, and have put my dad to work making me a knitting sheath to increase my knitting speed and tension so I can make my husband a wicked pair of hiking socks.
The other was our taxi driver. If Queen Latifah had a sister that outweighed her by a hundred and fifty pounds, it would have been her. When she saw that I was pregnant she cut us a deal. She also told me at least forty times to "Just look at that belly!" "What a beautiful belly!" and that I had the most beautiful body. I was having a boy she just knew it! She also gave me the best advice about childbirth I've received up to this point. "It's a piece of cake!" she exclaimed. "I dunno why these womens like to spread them horror stories. It's a piece of cake! You just get rid of thems who say otherwise until you pop that baby out." I would not have minded riding around with her the entire day. Total crazy, but a crack up.
The show itself was everything I'd hoped for. I do not have the English writing skills to do the yarns, fibers, notions, etc. justice. Let's just say that Grandma and I have already begun plotting our strategy for next year. We still plan on taking the train again, and plan to expect the unexpected. For as crazy as it was, it was remarkably tame. The craziest thing about the whole day was that I didn't buy any yarn to knit with at a Knitting Convention, um..I mean Fiber Show.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Some things are different this time around, obviously. Least of all the fact that I'm not dependent on anyone regarding bringing my baby home and that I don't have to get permission from anyone for a damn thing. The state does not care about the my living conditions this time around. How easy it is to take things like that for granted. And the questions. Oh the questions! This time, I get asked something everywhere I go. Not that I'm not excited, truly we are, but really grocery check out lady, why do you even care?
"Is this your first?" This is my first pregnancy, but I have a two year old daughter. Great adoption awareness conversations as well as blank, "Um, okay." stares have followed that one.
"When are you due?" May 19th.
"Do you know what you're having?" A boy.
"Do you have a name?" Erick. NOT GEORGE no matter what my husband tells you. Followed closely by, "Do you have a middle name?" James. His blogger name is still yet to be determined.
"How are you feeling?" Ever since my husband's holiday party where he pleaded that I not describe Braxton Hicks contractions as "my hoo-ha squeezing" I'm not sure how to answer that one. I feel pregnant. Do people know something I don't? I'm pregnant, not sick.
"Is Scrunch excited?" Scrunch gets excited about waving good-bye to poop in the toilet. How do you accurately measure what her emotional state is regarding becoming a sibling? If you ask her if she's going to be a big sister she'll tell you yes. And she knows that she is going to have a baby brother. Any more than that and I think we're reading too much into a two year old's psyche.
"Do you have the nursery ready?" No.
"Are you ready?" Ready or not, I think I'm in this for the long haul. What am I supposed to say there? Um, no? I don't know? Too bad if I'm not? I think I am, but how would I even know?
Did I miss anything?
Betcha I make forty-thousand and one before I leave Target the next time.
Friday, March 19, 2010
You may or may not have noticed that we got a new camera. We don't know how to use it- myself even less than my husband. Hence the picture of the drain while trying to take pictures of Scrunch at the pool.
But don't be jealous. It took the stars aligning just right to justify the purchase. My husband had to leave the continent and me planning to give birth in a bathtub.Because I am a great big chicken weenie, rather than go to China with my Husband I am going to my Mom's. We leave tomorrow. Something about giving birth in the airport in Tai Pei gives me the heebie jeebies. Would've made for awesome pictures though, huh? So long as I wasn't holding the camera. Pictures with the lens cap on all look the same no matter what country you're in.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Do not talk to me until I've had my coffee this morning. Since I do not drink coffee, do not talk to me period. I'll do my best to keep my mouth shut and will be home next week.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
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