Morning wisdom by Darr

Reading the NY Times this morning before work...

Darr: It's got to be great that you can do illegal things and then call it "secret" so that you can't be charged.

Pretty but wtf?

In case you missed it...


My favorite part - "...Because some people out there in our nation don't have maps."

Many thanks to Lorenzo over at Propaganda Sifter for reminding me of this gem. It's too good not to share.

Not your ordinary laundry day

Today I laundered my first four loads of baby clothing. Four loads. For our baby. Our baby that will soon be here to wear said clothing. This was not an ordinary laundry day.

The Invasion

On Monday Jen and I caught The Invasion, the latest film version of Don Siegel's "Invasion of the Body Snatchers." The movie was entertaining but not terribly scary. Although as with every scary movie there were important things to note so I'm back with another exciting round of...

The Invasion Lessons Learned

1. When you start to realize that the people on the street are being invaded at the cellular level and you find a locked door that has folks behind it screaming to be let out. Don't open the door. Once aliens invade they can lie like regular folks.

2. Do not choose a long, tight skirt with heels as your outfit of choice to run away from the invaded people. It is hard to break into a solid run with your legs strapped down by the fabric and heels just weren't made for running. Also, don't go hobbling down an empty tunnel. No good can come from going into empty tunnels.

3. The second your trusted canine friend raises his hackles at another human, trust the dog and get away from the invaded person. Along with a highly developed sense of smell, dogs can detect cell mutations that occur when people have been invaded by alien forces.

4. Make sure your kid can read so in the event you are separated from your child when the aliens start invading the humans, he'll know what to do (or not do). Be sure to leave the cryptic message scrawled on the wall in plain view of everyone. No wait, don't do that. Keep it secret and keep it safe. You don't want the aliens to know your defensive strategy.

5. Invaded humans don't sweat. If you haven't yet been invaded and you want to blend in, splash some cold water on your face and be sure to look them in the eyes. If you show emotion, they will know you aren't invaded and they will spit on you so they can infect you. And invaded human spit is nasty.

6. If you come upon a human in transition - the cellular changes take place during REM sleep - do not take his picture. It will cause him to be angry and attack. You don't want a gunky invaded human attacking you. They are gunky and gross.

When not having a signed contract is a good thing

I've been in the process of trying to find and hire painters for a few weeks now. I'm torn because I have painted and repainted our condo many times during our seven years of inhabiting it and it seems a little ridiculous that I am now going to pay someone to do it for me when I am clearly someone capable of painting (in a manner that may not be professional but is passable). It seems even more ridiculous to risk birth defects to save a few bucks. I finally selected someone to come paint our place, Darr and I picked out the very basic color we wanted, and the date was set. That date was this morning. Only the two guys that showed up at my house I had never met nor was informed of by the guy I did hire. (Enter concern number one.) The guys were pleasant enough, they clearly looked like painters, but they did not have, as I was expecting, the prepared contract. (Enter concern number two.) So I tell them I'm a little uncomfortable proceeding - blaming "the husband" since I lack the balls to confront the situation directly and honestly - and they go back outside to get the gear (apparently they are going forward with the job despite my reservations) and call the owner. I of course hop online to IM Darr and apprise him of the situation. When he hears about the apparent bait-and-switch he gives me the okay to boot them out, which is what I do before calling the guy I hired to let him know why.

The way I see it, the guy could have two general responses - the Sorry-'bout-the-miscommunication response and the I'm-a-bitter-old-painter response. This guy chose the latter of the two and got pissy with me, stating things like "I'm the owner," and "Of course I have a crew." As if I'm retarded for thinking he might actually come to paint my house. Maybe I am. But the way to salvage the potential job isn't to bite my head off and try to make me feel stupid. At this point, because hindsight truly is 20/20, I'm thinking about all of the things that now seem suspect: 1) No mention that he wasn't part of the crew that would do the painting, 2. no contract, C. the weird way he defined the scope of the project, and d) even the lateness of the crew that did show up (although they weren't that late). The clincher is when he whines about the money he's already spent, money he could recoup if he'd had me sign - say it with me - a contract. I don't even feel bad for not buying the paint from them that they bought for the job. Good riddance, buddy.

Gonzo resigns

Ha hahahahah hahahahaha hahahahahahahahahaha. Woooo...Man, did that guy ever suck at his job. Good riddance, jerk.

Ella in Europe: an american dog's international adventures

This book gets a rating of 4.5. As far as books go, it was an easy read but I have to say I enjoyed it less than I had anticipated because the author had a tendency to go overboard with the love for his dog. Descriptions that were intended (I'm sure) to be endearing ended up feeling weird. Wrong. It made me uncomfortable. It also seems as if the author used Ella as a way to get a trip to Europe that would be tax deductible because he was doing research for a book he was writing about traveling with his dog in Europe. Wait, I just had an idea. I'm going to write a book about a former technical writer/soon-to-be-a-mom/future law student extraordinaire that travels first class to exotic destinations. Now if only I can find a publishing company looking for just such a book to pitch it to...

Possible baby name

Sitting on the couch, Darr looks at me and says:

"Maybe we should call the R.A., Reginald Andrew."

When other people buy gifts for your kid

This morning the lovely ladies at Spoiled Rotten threw me a baby shower. We met at Springwater Grill where I got to eat and unwrap cute baby stuff. Is there a better way for a pregnant lady to spend her Sunday morning? (No.) There were many scary stories about the birthing process and false labor but those were countered with equally inspiring stories of quick deliveries with babies that returned to their normal human shapes after making the trek through the birth canal into the world. The food was good, the company was fantastic, and the presents were wonderfully fabulous. I put together yet another collage to show off some of the cool things they bought for the R.A.

Vote: What to buy?

Here are a few changing tables we've found that we are considering purchasing for the R.A.'s room. As much as we'd like the little fella to arrive diaper-need free, we hear he won't come that way and that soon after delivery he'll be running through 8 to 10 diapers a day. A day! That's one 24-hour period, folks. Feel free to share your thoughts. It should be noted that the tables are uploaded in no particular order of preference.

by TrueModern
(Clean lines, functional, and has the ability to convert to a regular dresser. Could probably use this until the kid becomes a teenager.)

by Target
(Inexpensive and functional but would probably be donated once the kid is out of diapers. Downside - no drawers, which means the hands of a toddler could easily decimate any attempt to organize the diaper changing necessities.)
by Tetra2
(Nice modern piece that could later be converted into a hallway table but has an outrageous price tag. Has an additional charge for the changing tray that sits on top.)

by Cub Station
(Simple construction and reasonably priced. Could probably use this until the kid becomes a teenager.)

by Stokke
(Functional, reasonably priced, and can be converted into bedroom shelves. With additional purchase, can be made into a desk, which could have this piece lasting all the way through college, slated to begin in 2025. Only downside - no drawers. Same worry regarding busy toddler hands applies.)

by IoLine
(Unique and semi-functional trunk that would require kneeling when changing the R.A.'s diaper. Could later be converted into a toy chest and bench. Upside - made from bamboo so it's the eco-friendliest piece in the bunch.)

by Oeuf
(Inexpensive and sparse. Could only use until the kid was out of diapers. Downside - no drawers would require placement next to something that would hold the necessary diaper changing accoutrements.)

by NurseryWorks
(Cute and has plenty of space but is fairly expensive. Would need to sell or place in storage once the R.A. is out of diapers.)

Now our baby can motor, too

This morning Darr and I grabbed breakfast at Zell's - Darr had Salmon Benedict and I had a German pancake with berries and peaches - and then dropped by Stereotypes Audio so Darr could ogle the equipment and gab (for what seemed like hours to me) with the owner about what would and would not work for our current residence. After a good seven years of solid service, it's time to upgrade the old Sony 27" t.v. I fell for this totally awesome iPod player called the Fatman iTube.
I know. I know. It belongs in a bachelor pad but you have to admit it is stylish in a way that is vastly superior to other iPod players like the iHome line, although the iH14D Table Radio they make is cute and about $930 cheaper so... do we really have the option to buy the Fatman iTube Valve Dock with the price of college tuition for the R.A. in 2025 hanging over our heads? (Answer: No.) Since our purpose for leaving the condo this morning was to make it out to Segal's to purchase a car seat for the Resident Alien, we left the store without opening our wallets. Our visit to Segal's went like this:

1. Enter store
2. Turn right and proceed to the car seat area
3. Commence search for the Graco SnugRide (which we erroneously believed was our only real option for the Mini)
4. Spot the Peg Perégo in orange and black and gravitate toward it
5. Respond to a salesperson asking if we need assistance
6. Inquire if the Peg Perégo will fit in our car
7. Learn that it will fit and that this model has higher side impact ratings than the Graco (score!)
8. Advise the salesperson we'll take it
9. Accept help from a qualified person to install the base in Sophie
10. Purchase the car seat
    

Success. Next on the 'To Buy' list, the crib. The search for a changing table begins now. Here's a pic of Darr, who seems surprisingly happy for someone who just shelled out over $200 for a seat the kid is only going to use for about a year. (Methinks he might be a wee bit excited about the baby. And no, I didn't ask him to pose for this shot, he did it of his own accord.)

Policía! Policía!

So, I saw a worrisome sight the other day. Apparently we have a federal police force now. Not FBI, not INS (they call themselves USCIS now -- whatever), not customs. Regular federal police. I was so shocked I didn't know how to process. I understand this is the norm in most countries (RCMP anybody?) but in America the federal government has an army it doesn't have police. What the fuck are these jokers thinking?

Apparently they are providing a public service.<--sarcasm

The big freeze

The globe is warming but here at Life at the condo we're freezing. Part of this is because the weather outside is hot and humid and I am almost eight months pregnant. If the temperature inside isn't kept at a nice steady 72 degrees Fahrenheit or cooler, I'm sweating and considerably uncomfortable. But part is that I am actually busy freezing meals that we can consume after the Resident Alien arrives. The Food Saver is a most excellent tool for this. So far we've got chicken noodle soup, pesto (16 servings!), pasta all'Amatriciana (the sauce), beef stew, and chocolate cookies with peanut butter chips. The search is on for more freezer-safe meals that I can prepare now and reheat for dinner later. I'm hoping for more beets from Luscher Farm this week so I have an excuse to make another batch of borsch.

'Morning Thoughts' by me

Me, awake since 3 a.m.: "If I don't believe there is a God but I am open to the possibility of one existing, like if God were to part the heavens and tap me on the shoulder to introduce itself, does that make me more of an agnostic than an atheist?"

Darr, still groggy with sleep: "It's too early in the morning for this."

And all for nothing it had ever done

The firm house lingers, though averse to square
With the new city street it has to wear
A number in. But what about the brook
That held the house as in an elbow-crook?
I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength
And impulse, having dipped a finger length
And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed
A flower to try its currents where they crossed.
The meadow grass could be cemented down
From growing under pavements of a town;
The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.
Is water wood to serve a brook the same?
How else dispose of an immortal force
No longer needed? Staunch it at its source
With cinder loads dumped down?
The brook was thrown
Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
In fetid darkness still to live and run -
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
No one would know except for ancient maps
That such a brook ran water. But I wonder
If from its being kept forever under
The thoughts may not have risen that so keep
This new-built city from both work and sleep.

- A Brook In The City, Robert Frost

Holy cow!

Could ... not ... resist ...

Had ... to ... buy ...


This lil' cow is big enough for a one year old to sit and bounce on and is totally frickin' cute.

Alexandra the Great

The Bickels came over for brunch this morning after we figured out that the place we had been planning to go to (Bob's Red Mill) wasn't open on Sundays. The morning wasn't really all about Alexandra (a.k.a. the Noodle) but she sure is cute and fun to have around. How else would we get any play out of the toys we've bought for the Resident Alien? We rustled up some grub (oatmeal, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, scones, and blackberries) and then ate it all while the little one explored the house, tracked the cats, and learned how to bang on a drum. The girl has mad drumming skills. Here's proof...
If that doesn't show it, the look on her face in this pic does.

More stuff for the Resident Alien

I thought I'd post another pictorial of cool things for the R.A. (Click here to see the first post.) We've got cool things we bought, cool things we've received from friends, and one cool outfit we've purchased to totally pimp out our kid.

Love in the Time of Cholera

This book gets a rating of 1.5. I can't count the professors I had that described this book as the greatest love story ever. In some aspects, I would agree with that assessment. A young love strikes two people, is mistakenly overlooked as something else, and after a lifetime apart is reignited. It should be noted that this is a much easier read than One Hundred Years of Solitude, which I found confusing because so many of the characters in the novel had the same name. About twenty pages in there is an incident regarding soap or lack thereof that leads to this...

"The incident, of course, gave them the opportunity to evoke many other trivial quarrels from many other dim and turbulent dawns. Resentments stirred up other resentments, reopened old scars, turned them into fresh wounds, and both were dismayed at the desolating proof that in so many years of conjugal battling they had done little more than nurture their rancor."

This argument causes Juvenal (the husband) to leave the marital bed. Four months later - four months! - he returns to their bed to read and when Fermina (the wife) gives the signal it is time for him to go to the other bedroom so that she may sleep, he capitulates by stating the following: "Let me stay here...There was soap." Classic.

Enjoy the language in this book. It is as beautiful as the love story itself.

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: Breasts and a business opportunity

Darr's Canadian relatives are in town tonight so I flew solo at the last of our birthing classes. I learned how to hold the Resident Alien like a football, how to squeeze my breast to facilitate the flow of milk, and that breast milk produced when smoking marijuana is nine times more potent than the pot that you smoked before you pumped. Nine times.

Um, I watch Weeds. Does anyone else see the potential here? I mean, nine times more potent. That's a significant increase. I'm betting the market has not been flooded with pot-laden breast milk. And I'm just as sure there are diehard pot smokers that would love to try this stuff. Get high and satisfy your hunger at the same time! It's pure genius, I say.

Trying on dresses is hard work

I met my friend Jen at a bridal shop earlier this evening to keep her company, along with her other friends and sister, whilst she tried on dress after dress after dress, diving into the various satin, silk, and taffeta fabrics and holding her boobs in place as the back of the dress was laced up. I've known Jen for about <insert quick calculation here> two and a half years now, and she is fantastically wonderful and about to embark on the crazy journey we call marriage and I couldn't be happier for her. As expected, she was absolutely radiant as she tried on each dress and turned to face herself in the mirror. And she positively beamed when the salesperson assisting her with the dresses placed the veil on top of her head. Despite her love of sports and hippie (or what Darren would describe as granola-ish) ways, she is a girl just like the rest of us womenfolk. A girl who has bought herself a stack of wedding mags and is already planning the who, what, when, and where of what will surely turn out to be one of the most amazing days in her life. I just hope I can be there when they start dishing out the cake, 'cuz, um, who doesn't like cake, eh?

Rudest woman in the park

Darr and I took Beauty the wonder dog to the Sellwood Riverfront Park last night for some much needed tennis ball play and were happily minding our own business when we were approached by the rudest woman in the park. Ms. McRude and her two kids were picnicking in one of the few shady places in the off-leash area of the park, approximately 25 feet from the highly desired stretch of grass that is next to the river where off-leash dogs are not allowed. And yeah, we notice that there is at least one curious pup - not Beauty, who is so ball-centered she is incapable of noticing anything except tennis balls flying through the air and bouncing on the ground - that joyfully runs over to the picnickers to say hi and sniff out the foods, a friendly dog gesture that clearly is not appreciated or welcomed. I understand this dog behavior is irritating if you aren't a dog lover, and that it is considered a greater annoyance when the dog owners don't immediately come to discipline their dog and remove it from the vicinity, leaving you alone to fend off the persistent animal. But, hey, you chose to sit in the off-leash area of a dog park so...

Instead of getting up and moving, this lady complains loudly about the dogs and yells over a request that all of us dog owners - there are approximately ten in the shady area near her (the nearest around 20 feet from where she was parked) and several more already positioned around the rest of the off-leash part of the park - move to another area. A few dog owners, those with pets that are closer to the 'sometimes I'll listen to you and sometimes I won't' puppy stage eventually move towards the middle of the park. Some of us remain where we are. At this point the lady, unpleased that her request is not immediately granted, charges over to us and says something like "I don't think you understood me," and follows up with a "You're being very rude." She explains that she had gone to another area before and it was closed so she came to this park and that dogs have been bothering her, blah, blah, blah. To which I respond with a defensive "not our dog". Because it wasn't, Beauty didn't go near her or her kids. And then the lady lies. Lies. And says something about how our dog came over but he "didn't take any food". Darr asks the lady which dog is ours but she ignores him, states multiple times that we are being rude, and returns to her blanket. Another dog owner came to our defense during the encounter and let the lady know that she was the one being rude. To this kind lady, we thank you and hope to see both you and your dog back at the park real soon.

Patagonia! Patagonia!

Patagonia has a sale. We go. We buy. Yeah!

Pants, top & hat in a green stripe for baby
Undies for him & her
T-shirts (2 for Christie, 1 for Baby)
"Figure 4" Jacket for me (woohoo!)
Fleece jacket for baby
Striped Shirt
Shorts

That's 13 items for $323.70!

Current pregnancy stats

• There are 61 days until my due date (14 October).
• I am 219 days or 31 weeks or 7.2 months pregnant.
• My uterus is about 4.4 inches above my belly button.
• The Resident Alien is approximately 18 inches and weighs approximately 3.5 pounds.
• This week we're working on lung development.

I wasn't voting for him anyway but...

Did you know that presidential hopeful Mitt Romney once transported his dog, Seamus, (an Irish Setter), in a dog carrier that he strapped to the roof of his station wagon during a 12-hour car ride from Boston to Ontario? At one point, after his eldest son noticed brown stuff coming down the side of the car, Mitt pulled over and proceeded to hose down the dog, the carrier, and the car because the dog had defecated and urinated. Did Mitt then work to make room for the dog in the car? No. He strapped the dog back on top and kept on driving. Romney defended his actions from over 20 years ago stating the dog "likes fresh air". Now I know that 1. this took place a long time ago and that B) we didn't have the same laws regarding animal cruelty (hell, we didn't even have safety belt laws for children) and that 3. there are, arguably, bigger concerns than how one moron chose to transport his dog while taking his family to their summer vacation destination. But wouldn't you like to think that this is one of those things you just wouldn't do because you'd just know better not to? Wouldn't you like to think that if your car was that full of crap, you'd load up the carrier with all of the non-living travel items and pack the dog in the car? Wouldn't you like to think that after evidence the dog was perhaps a wee bit stressed traveling at a minimum rate of 60 mph on our nation's highways, you'd do something to alleviate the dog's anxiety? 'Cuz Romney didn't. I'll admit I laughed reading the story but most of the hysterical giggling came from my inability to believe someone could be this big of an idiot. Well, that and some of the comments folks left after reading the story - "If Romney is elected, Air Force One is going to look awfully silly with a dog carrier strapped to the roof."

Civil liberties vs. warrantless wiretapping

There's a good editorial in the NY Times about the recent snafu by Congress, which just voted to allow the president to wiretap conversations and e-mails without obtaining warrants. For those who fall prey to the fear the president uses to control and manipulate, consider the following:

"The new measure eviscerates the protections of FISA, allowing the attorney general to decide when to eavesdrop - without a warrant - on any telephone call or e-mail message, so long as one of the people communicating is "reasonably believed" to be outside the country."

Okay. The Attorney General. Alberto "Nothing would excuse false statements before the Congress" Gonzales. 'Nuff said. He clearly cannot be trusted.

"It's not that FISA makes it too hard; the court approves virtually every warrant request. It's not an issue of speed. The law allows the government to initiate surveillance and get a warrant later if necessary."

This means the government already has the authority to listen in at any time. They can do so at a moment's notice and obtain a warrant from the court later if necessary. There was no reason to hand this to Bush. Absolutely none. Wait. Let me take that back. There is. Because the neo-cons are so ultra effective should any terrorist activity occur on this soil, they would claim it was a direct consequence of not having the power they deemed necessary to protect us. And they would blame the Democrats. And stoopid* people who watch Fox News and think it is actually "fair and balanced" would believe every word that fell from their mouths. We do not need to be protected at all costs. Part of living in a free society is accepting the risk that comes from being free.

Argh.

I need a beer.

*Intentionally misspelled

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: Hospital tour

Last night we toured the facilities at OHSU to see what awaits us when the R.A. finally decides to come into the world. The birthing suites are nice. The mother baby units are nice. It's all nice. And in just a few short months we'll be experiencing it for ourselves in a non-tour way. This was the last class Darr will attend with me as next week, for the final class, we're going over breastfeeding with a lactation specialist. Boobs galore might normally be of interest to the menfolk but since it is a bunch of pregnancy boobs instead of the boobs you get on, oh let's say, Baywatch, we're guessing all of the mens are going to opt out.

The best part of the class came when we were discussing the various medical procedures in labor and delivery, specifically the various interventions that can be used. One of the alternatives listed for Misoprostol was sexual intercourse. I wanted to ask, since Misoprostol is what you get once you are at the hospital, if that meant you could elect to have some, um, alone time with your partner instead of taking the drug. While I didn't have the guts to pose the question to the class, I did point out that particular alternative to Darr, to which he replied, "Finally, something I can do." I had to stifle the inappropriate laughter that followed out of fear the teacher would single me out to explain what was so damn funny. But seriously, is that an option? Do they just hang a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door to your birthing suite and give you a few minutes to take care of business?

No longer a ballgame virgin

Thanks to Darr's employer we spent the evening at PGE Park watching the Beavers take on the Memphis Redbirds. The Beavers did not display a high level of baseball skill - I can only assume they were having an off night. There were multiple opportunities for double plays that just didn't pan out, and one time when #7 (yeah buddy, we blame you) forced a run to second base that ended with two outs for our team. <tsk, tsk> Needless to say, we did not win but I was able to snap a few pics to memorialize the event.

Welcome to PGE Park

On our way into the stadium

Our drinks - Darr's on the left, mine on the right

Can't catch a ballgame without consuming peanuts

Count the boy butts

Game over

Big tomato pic found

I just downloaded some pics from the old digital camera and came across this one. I'm calling it "Darr's Big Tomato" 'cuz...damn, that's one big tomato.

The Secret Lives of Fortunate Lives

This book gets a rating of 5.5. Yeah, I feel the appropriate level of embarrassment for having spent any time of my life at all reading this book. But sometimes you go to Powells and you're perusing the aisles and you grab a book and even though you don't really pay attention to what it is that you've grabbed you make your way to the counter to pay and the book is still there so you buy it and eventually you read it. The book is written using non-taxing vocabulary and familiar, i.e., cliché, plot lines. The fortunate wives of Hunting Hills put up with a great deal from their philandering husbands. They are Stepford-wifish in their perfection. But (surprise, surprise) there is something amiss in this idyllic setting. (Yeah, like the author's reference to L.L. Bean as a high-end clothing line for nature folks.) If you can find any other book on the shelf, read it instead.

Saturday sans dog

A few days ago I received an e-mail from Brother Nick extending an invite to bring Beaut over to spend some quality time with Autzen (who is now an astounding 65 lbs, 2 lbs shy of Beaut's current weight, and at what the vet estimates is 65% of his growth - meaning he'll get much bigger and/or broader by the time he stops growing). So on Friday night we hopped into the dog car (a.k.a. Olive) after work and headed to Newberg.

Beautimous Jones always seems to know where we are headed and it couldn't have been more apparent she was excited about her mini holiday at Uncle Nick's than when we pulled up to the house and she started a refrain in dogspeak from the backseat. "Let me out. Let me out. Let me out. Let me out." Beaut and Autzen were busy in the backyard when we left a short while later.

What is most weird about not having the dog at home is the sudden freedom from responsibility. We slept in Saturday morning, and when we finally did manage to drag our butts out of bed the day opened up to us with zero thought of when we would have to return home to take care of the dog's needs. We took the opportunity to spend the day roaming Portland - stopping at Genies for breakfast, IKEA (to have Darr check out the inexpensive crib that is surprisingly sturdy), Grasshopper (for the AB/CD shirt, which they no longer have in infant sizes but I found here, we also purchased the Sit N Walk Puppy by Plan toys for the R.A. and Table Tennis for Darr and I), Tin Shed (where Darr had a girlie drink and I had chocolate milk), and Black Wagon (where we purchased ultra cool art for the R.A.'s room (pictured below) and learned about Rattle-N-Roll birth announcements - these things are AWESOME). We came home, cooked dinner, played a little table tennis, and watched Hot Fuzz. Yep, it's a full life, for sure.

The art we bought for the Resident Alien. Nice, eh?

WTF?: Expanded authority

I thought I was misreading when I went to the NY Times web site and read the following headline Spying Measure Advances in Congress with this explanatory blurb:

"The Senate approved a measure last night to broaden the White House's wiretapping authority; the House was expected to take up the measure today."

I'm sorry. What? What is going on? Why is the Senate giving the president expanded powers? Hasn't he already proven himself unworthy of having such power and untrustworthy of using said power in a just and responsible manner? Why can't the Senate's response be reasoned instead of always bowing to the fear machine that is this current administration. I cannot think of a reason Dubya needs zero judicial oversight to protect us. Not one. I'm angered by the Democrats seeming lack of any spine whatsoever to stand up to the man at the helm and tell him, "No, until you stop acting like a petulant child, we aren't giving you anything. Know that should anything happen because you refused to compromise, the damages will rest on your shoulders. It will be YOUR failure, not ours." When are people going to learn that we cannot sacrifice our freedoms under the guise that by doing so we are somehow safer. We aren't. If I can't make a phone call or send an e-mail without having it monitored, then I am no longer free. And this makes the whole great experiment that was America fail for everyone. I'm disgusted and I'm going to contact my House representatives to express my displeasure. If you are an Oregonian and would like to do the same, your representatives are:
David Wu
Greg Walden
Earl Blumenauer
Peter DeFazio
Darlene Hooley
Click here to find your representatives if you live outside the great state of Oregon.

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: Instruments of torture

Last night was our fourth class and it started off with, you guessed it, more videos. I excused myself from the room and went to the lobby where I found a fascinating Thanksgiving edition of Sunset magazine from November 2006. I was not the only person with video fear. Two other couples showed up late to avoid having to watch the painfully real deliveries. I've already got a picture in my head of what labor is going to be like (see pic at right) and I don't think seeing the bottom naked half of a woman writhing in pain as she forces her baby's ginormous cranium through a 3.9 inch hole (that's as big as 10 cm gets, folks) is going to help me in any fashion, although it could very well drive me to jump off the nearest bridge.

Once that was over we talked about the things we need to have or do to help us while at the hospital. For me, keeping people out of the room and away from me (this includes students and the like who may want to closely monitor the situation) will be most beneficial. That, and having The Sopranos playing on the dvd to take my mind off of what I'm doing in between contractions. For Darr, there came a realization that he probably shouldn't offer up problem solving techniques because anything he says could cause him to be severely beaten, ignored or divorced.

And then our fearless leader Annette brought out the instruments of torture. Well, for the most part they were pretty benign - a fetal monitor, an oxygen mask, an aspirator, etc. It was the catheter that really got our attention. (I'm sorry, you want to put that where?) I don't think there were many of us who believed Annette when she tried to assure us it didn't hurt. The amniohook (a long crochet type hook with a pricked end) was also troubling in appearance. (It's used to break a woman's water.) And finally the vacuum, which we learned, thanks to Darr's clarifying question, is not hooked up to a compressor when it is used to extract the baby.

The more I learn in this class, the more I am amazed we've survived as a species.

Fun, fair & organic

I stumbled upon a small article in a vendor magazine (that I perused during a particularly slow day at the boutique last Sunday) that highlighted a relatively new (circa 2003) clothing line for babies and toddlers called speesees. I have already purchased a pair of the new yoga pants for the Resident Alien, but the more I check out the site, the more things I want. First of all, the cotton used in the clothing is organic - always a plus. Second, the employees at the factory in India are paid living wages and a percentage of the proceeds go to support the local orphanage - who doesn't like supporting orphans? Third, the dyes are low-impact and herbal-based - I am in no way suggesting anyone should try to smoke the clothing, just in case that's the direction my pot-smoking readers, if there are any, are headed. Fourth, the prices are totally reasonable. And finally, the stuff is über cute! (See pic below to confirm this claim.) Things I am restraining myself from buying include the 'kid natural animal kimono, the dandelion kimono in grass, and the human bodysuit. That, and all of the stuff on the kid in the following picture, including the booties. Cute. Cute. Cute.