the baron, as the post of this title suggests, is currently suffering from a wicked case of writer's block. this forum, where she's come often in the past year or two to lay her thoughts to paper (so to speak), isn't really working for her lately... mostly because she doesn't actually have any thoughts worth sharing! instead, over the past month, she's had a fragment here, something small and interesting there, but nothing worth sculpting into an entire series of sentences, a narrative.
sigh.
so.
reader? interested in some scrap thoughts?
----
the baron is tired of being pregnant. in the last 4 weeks, she's gained a frightening amount of weight, so much so that she fears what the next 10 weeks will bring. really, reader? how much bigger can this baby get? and, will the baron have to buy more (bigger) clothes for herself to accommodate him? yikes.
----
the nursery (which the baron has only just become accustomed to calling 'the nursery' rather than 'the office') is nearly done. everything a newborn baby needs is ready to go - clothes, diapers, a place to sleep, a place to be changed. sometimes, the baron gets a little sad, looking at this room, a newly painted space that seems to be holding its breath in anticipation. the baron knows she's holding her breath too.
----
hey, douchebag [name redacted] (says the baron), lay off my husband. sorry your guys can't swim at home OR at work, but really? do all small states yield small-minded people? grow up, hoser.
----
so. baby showers. what are they about? the baron always thought they were about bringing together all the good people in one's life, and mingling over cocktails. it turns out, though, they're really about getting presents (and, evidently, simulating baby excrement with candy bars). which is kind of sucky. because the baron didn't really want to ask all the good people in her life to buy things for the baby.
however, the buying of things seems a foregone conclusion, so the baron thought that she could give back by participating in the planning of the shower; alas, she was shouted down by a friend via this exchange:
the baron: well, can't i do the invitations?
friend: it's poor, poor etiquette.
the baron: what?
friend: i didn't really mean to double up on the poors
the baron: where is that written?
friend: it's just, you shouldn't participate too much in something that is asking for gifts because then it's like YOU are asking for gifts.
admittedly, this perspective had not occured to the baron and after this exchange, the baron felt very small. in her mind, by offering to help, she was taking pressure off the hostess! it seems, though, that to everyone else, her involvement might actually appear as a solicitation of presents on her own behalf. she felt very small indeed.
----
baby x is kicking, with regularity and surprising strength. he's not striking out with enough force to, say, break a rib, but he is able to push his arms and/or legs outward and into the baron's abdomen. it's very strange for her, to see a lump suddenly appear and pulsate just to the left of her belly button.
also, her belly button? she thinks it's going to pop out very soon. so. that's great.
----
is spring here yet? the baron was happy when she realized that her pregnancy would take her through the winter months (and not an awful, awful summer), but now she's realizing that - at this late stage of her pregnancy - none of her outerwear fits. and. it's. still. cold. outside.
----
the baron and the husband have lately discussed the difference between being a cynic and being a realist. the husband believes he is the latter, though the baron would have called him the former. the baron would call herself the latter, though frequently sees herself veering into the territory of the former... which, she admits, is ugly.
it seems to her that now, this time in her life, is not the time for cynicism, not when she and the husband are about to be responsible for an entire new person.
----
writer's block, the baron thinks, happens from time to time. she'll get over it, and reader? giving life to her half-thoughts is making her feel better already.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
a dynamic performer
a good long while ago the baron made mention of mr. c, the lovely librarian/composer/humanitarian who also happens to wield a mean dust rag.
in that same post, she also made mention of his boyfriend, a six-foot plus, opera-singing charmer of a man who now has his very own website. said website, designed by a super professional web-designer, is tricked out with all sorts of bells and whistles (video! audio! a link to his vlog!!!)... reader, meet chris jones.
in that same post, she also made mention of his boyfriend, a six-foot plus, opera-singing charmer of a man who now has his very own website. said website, designed by a super professional web-designer, is tricked out with all sorts of bells and whistles (video! audio! a link to his vlog!!!)... reader, meet chris jones.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
in with the new
happy new year, reader. the baron can hardly believe it's 2010. it seems to her that only very recently was she worried about y2k viruses and the like, but alas: time, she passes.
the baron, as a university employee, enjoyed a pretty hefty chunk of time away from work, from a few days before christmas to a few days after new year's day. in the months running up to this break she had in her brain half-formed plans about what she'd do with the spare time. for instance, she thought she might make two more roman shades for the sun room, and finish a floral quilt begun sometime early last summer. she imagined, too, that she'd spend some time making baby-centric lists and rearranging the office into a nursery.
ahem. the best laid half-formed plans, eh?
in the days immediately before christmas, the baron baked and cooked and grocery shopped and raided the advent calendar. they were good days. christmas itself was a good day too - the baron and the husband slept in and had a lazy morning of pancakes and coffee (decaf for the baron).
the day after christmas was horrible. and the one after that. and the next one too.
on december 26, the baron lolled about in bed, ready to dive deeply into one of her christmas gifts (reader, the best thing the baron has read in a long, long time). the husband murmured something about packing up a few boxes of books or something like it. the baron, half listening, took this to mean, "the baron, i will be making slow progress in the office, taking my sweet time packing up our books - THE VESTIGES OF OUR FORMER, PRE-PREGNANCY LIVES - into boxes. this is a tragic and difficult process. sigh."
ahem.
the husband actually meant, "the baron, you stay here and read. i will ruthlessly pack away ALL of our books and dismantle the bookshelves to boot. don't worry; we won't need books where we're going."
ahem. that might be an overstatement, reader, but that is certainly how the baron felt when she stumbled out of bed three hours later to find the office in a shambles, books gone, bookcases dusty and waiting for transport to elsewhere. to use technical language, the baron, seeing the office laid waste in front of her, lost her shit. all over the place. see, she expected to find a few empty shelves, not a newly emptied room - it was jarring! the husband, excited about the baby and deep into the packing-things-away groove, saw nothing wrong with what he'd done. sigh. such is cohabitation, such is married life.
from there, the situation devolved into clipped barbs, to shouting, to pouting, and back again: where will the desk go? and the computer? why can't we get estimates for built in bookcases? just estimates! what seating would go into the baby's room? what color would it be? when sanding and painting, doesn't a drop cloth make sense so things don't, you know, filter into the basement? does everything have to be staged in the living room? why is there no room in the basement? why? why? why? reader, it was a lousy series of days. the mess, the rearranged furniture, the living in semi-squalor, the faint smell of paint lingering for days and days... really, really lousy.
see, it wasn't just the books being gone. it was also that the room needed to be painted. it was also that the husband's sister gifted to them a LITERAL metric ton of baby stuff; clothes and swaddling cloths and in-car bottle warmers and books and mobiles and five pairs of the tiniest shoes you've ever seen. it was also that the baron was - and remains - overwhelmed by these things.
but. the baron learned something, something she had known but momentarily forgot.
the baron is slow to take to change. she likes her change meted out in small doses.
the husband likes movement. movement, to him, is akin to progress.
so, while the baron was lamenting the slow death of their lives together - after all, the baron is a complicated woman who is capable of experiencing excitement about the baby coming while simultaneously experiencing sadness about the end of her family of two - the husband was delighting in the arrival of someone new.
she'll get there too, eventually, even though her steps? they are very, very small.
the baron, as a university employee, enjoyed a pretty hefty chunk of time away from work, from a few days before christmas to a few days after new year's day. in the months running up to this break she had in her brain half-formed plans about what she'd do with the spare time. for instance, she thought she might make two more roman shades for the sun room, and finish a floral quilt begun sometime early last summer. she imagined, too, that she'd spend some time making baby-centric lists and rearranging the office into a nursery.
ahem. the best laid half-formed plans, eh?
in the days immediately before christmas, the baron baked and cooked and grocery shopped and raided the advent calendar. they were good days. christmas itself was a good day too - the baron and the husband slept in and had a lazy morning of pancakes and coffee (decaf for the baron).
the day after christmas was horrible. and the one after that. and the next one too.
on december 26, the baron lolled about in bed, ready to dive deeply into one of her christmas gifts (reader, the best thing the baron has read in a long, long time). the husband murmured something about packing up a few boxes of books or something like it. the baron, half listening, took this to mean, "the baron, i will be making slow progress in the office, taking my sweet time packing up our books - THE VESTIGES OF OUR FORMER, PRE-PREGNANCY LIVES - into boxes. this is a tragic and difficult process. sigh."
ahem.
the husband actually meant, "the baron, you stay here and read. i will ruthlessly pack away ALL of our books and dismantle the bookshelves to boot. don't worry; we won't need books where we're going."
ahem. that might be an overstatement, reader, but that is certainly how the baron felt when she stumbled out of bed three hours later to find the office in a shambles, books gone, bookcases dusty and waiting for transport to elsewhere. to use technical language, the baron, seeing the office laid waste in front of her, lost her shit. all over the place. see, she expected to find a few empty shelves, not a newly emptied room - it was jarring! the husband, excited about the baby and deep into the packing-things-away groove, saw nothing wrong with what he'd done. sigh. such is cohabitation, such is married life.
from there, the situation devolved into clipped barbs, to shouting, to pouting, and back again: where will the desk go? and the computer? why can't we get estimates for built in bookcases? just estimates! what seating would go into the baby's room? what color would it be? when sanding and painting, doesn't a drop cloth make sense so things don't, you know, filter into the basement? does everything have to be staged in the living room? why is there no room in the basement? why? why? why? reader, it was a lousy series of days. the mess, the rearranged furniture, the living in semi-squalor, the faint smell of paint lingering for days and days... really, really lousy.
see, it wasn't just the books being gone. it was also that the room needed to be painted. it was also that the husband's sister gifted to them a LITERAL metric ton of baby stuff; clothes and swaddling cloths and in-car bottle warmers and books and mobiles and five pairs of the tiniest shoes you've ever seen. it was also that the baron was - and remains - overwhelmed by these things.
but. the baron learned something, something she had known but momentarily forgot.
the baron is slow to take to change. she likes her change meted out in small doses.
the husband likes movement. movement, to him, is akin to progress.
so, while the baron was lamenting the slow death of their lives together - after all, the baron is a complicated woman who is capable of experiencing excitement about the baby coming while simultaneously experiencing sadness about the end of her family of two - the husband was delighting in the arrival of someone new.
she'll get there too, eventually, even though her steps? they are very, very small.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
