the baron says...

it didn't go our way.

2012-02-29T15:32:00.001-05:00

miss you, tucker.

this round to tucker

2012-02-01T08:43:00.001-05:00

tucker's been a bit down lately, on account of a wicked case of meningoencephalitis (the baron is referring to it as brain fever).

it's been a long week for the baron and the husband (and probably longer still for tucker) as various doctors tried to sort out his diagnosis and treatment, but now, 10 days after the seizure that first indicated he might be ill, tucker is seeming better and better: he's ambulatory, and has regained his appetite, vision, and sense of smell. his hearing seems not to be so great, but yesterday the baron did notice tucker's ears twitch at the sound of the cookie jar lid being removed and was heartened by it.

years ago, when the baron and the husband were certain they did not want and would not have children, they mourned the life tucker would not have: he seemed the kind of dog specially bred for a little boy to roam and romp with, best friends armed with sticks and tennis balls.

things are much changed since those early days! when toddler x was born, among his parents' first thoughts was: how lucky this boy, to have tucker! and how lucky tucker is, to have this boy!

if things had gone a different way this week, the baron and the husband would have had a hard time putting things back together. happily and luckily, this round goes to tucker and there will be no mourning, only celebrating.

choo choo for fun

2011-12-04T04:20:00.003-05:00

the baron: are we going on a train tomorrow?
toddler x: yes!
the baron: what are we going to do tomorrow?
toddler x: train!
the baron: who are we going to see tomorrow?
toddler x: uncle dylan!

new york city, here we come.

princess... like gay, but worse?

2011-11-03T08:15:00.002-04:00

tomorrow the baron, the husband, and toddler x will find out the gender of baby segundo. both the baron and the husband are hoping for another boy, for reasons that have to do entirely with their self-perceived parenthood FAILS about raising girls and NOTHING to do with the obvious awesomeness of little girls.

for the husband, raising a daughter would perhaps remind him of his teenaged years; viewing a 13 year-old girl from the lens of fatherhood rather than teenage-boyhood might be too much for him to bear, since he'll acutely remember what, exactly, those teenaged boys are thinking about when and if they call upon his daughter. he has visions of standing guard on the porch, cocked shotgun in hand, warning young men away from the house. it's not a pretty picture.

for the baron, should she be carrying a daughter, her concern will mainly be about fundamental personality differences between herself and said daughter. the baron has been informally polling women at toddler x's playgroup and has found that the disposition of the mother is no guarantee about the disposition of the daughter. in other words, to paraphrase a woman from yesterday's playgroup, a woman whose rather sheltered daughter insisted on being a fairy princess for halloween: 'i used to think girls weren't born to want to be princesses, but she wants to wear her costume all the time. i have NO IDEA how she got this way. i'm not like that at all and she doesn't see those things...'

does this mean there's a princess gene? something that can't be fought or altered, some fundamental part of some little girls that draws them to pink and purple, makeup and jewelry? if so, the baron and the husband are screwed.

pregnant! again!

2011-11-02T10:01:00.001-04:00

but reader, let us not dwell on that fact just now.

instead, as the baron, the husband, and toddler x prepare for an early december trip to new york city, let's read a bit about the city.

...

the baron's favorite part of this article?

“Rats are almost as fecund as germs … a rat at four is older than a man at ninety. ‘Rats that survive to the age of four are the wisest and the most cynical beasts on earth,’ one exterminator says. ‘A trap means nothing to them, no matter how skillfully set. They just kick it around until it snaps; then they eat the bait … I believe some of them can read.’ ”

irony what now?

2011-09-22T10:13:00.000-04:00

the husband had just finished reading 'the lorax' to toddler x.

the baron: dude, doesn't that make you choke up a little at the end? it makes me cry a little every time i read it.

the husband: kind of.

the baron: i wouldn't mind having a lorax sticker on my car.

the husband: um, i think your sticker should be the once-ler.

the baron: oh... right.

is this what it will be like?

2011-03-21T08:15:00.003-04:00

the baron has been trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the people she and baby x meet at the park: other children, usually a little older than baby x, and parents.

it's no secret that the baron is happiest either alone or with her immediate family. it's also no secret that small talk is not something that comes naturally or easily to her. so giving good face at the park is a task that she'd rather not do... but as the weather improves, as it has in the last week, the baron finds herself faced with other parents a lot. a whole lot.

if she were alone, or with someone other than baby x - who has recently refashioned himself as Mr. Staring McLookatme - the baron would keep to herself. it's awkward, though, to ignore people when baby x is SO OBVIOUSLY STARING AT THEM and otherwise trying to draw as much attention to himself as possible. tentative and painful conversation between the baron and the play ground parents usually follows.

this past week, the baron met a woman who's house caught fire christmas eve, and who wanted to enroll her child in a foreign language immersion program. and a woman who suffered some kind of verbal aphasia that made it impossible BUT IMPOSSIBLE for her to remember the baron and baby x's names EVEN AS THE BARON SPOKE THEM. and a woman who sat on a bench with her face covered by her hands, removing them only to yell 'no! no!' at her golden retriever while her husband and children played on the merry-go-round.

you, reader, must be wondering how the baron is able to navigate her life, given the fact that there are PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. mirrored aviators, reader. they're amazing.

dinner table conversation

2011-03-17T18:35:00.003-04:00

the baron: baby x is so heavy. my shoulders and back ache from carrying him around all day.

the husband: i know. why don't you get a massage?

the baron: that money could be better spent on jiffy pots and yard stuff. maybe i'll just get some aspercreme and you can rub it on my shoulders some night you're feeling romantic.

the husband: sure. let me put my dentures in first.

the baron loves the husband because...

2011-03-09T11:34:00.000-05:00

...he makes her laugh.

to wit, a text she received from him earlier today:

Goddamned crooked fingered troll

so much sewing to do

2011-03-07T09:40:00.001-05:00

the baron, for being an unemployed stay-at-home parent, has a kind of big to-do list. it's mostly household-y stuff like vacuuming, laundry and the like, but there's other stuff on there too, stuff that might be labeled 'hobby' but which has come to feel like work. it's the sewing, that damn sewing.

first, sometime late last fall, she thought she'd make her brother a quilt. upon completion of the quilt's top, however, she decided that it didn't look sufficiently masculine enough for him, so she decided to start another, manlier, one for him, one consisting of triangles matched up into squares matched up into larger squares. midway through cutting the fabric for this quilt the baron remembered: dude, quilting with triangles is some hard business.

such a hard business, in fact, that the baron thought she'd take some time out from this second quilt to make a hat for baby x. 'a' hat turned into two hats, which then somehow - after the husband cleaned out his closet and displayed for the baron the pile of collared shirts he planned to donate to the thrift store - turned into four collared summer shirts for baby x (three of which are pictured below).

the baron has been working on these hats and shirts for the past couple of weeks while her quilts languish unseen in a cupboard. today she will finish the last of collared shirts and maybe, maybe get back to the quilts. maybe.

awesomeness abounds

2011-03-03T13:19:00.000-05:00

Goodnight Moon?
Try Goodnight Dune.

shades of harlan pepper

2011-02-24T08:31:00.000-05:00

all the dogs look forward to spring, but none so much as harlan pepper, he of the flinty gaze and and speckled chest.

so, because the weather has been looking up, enjoy yourself a photographic ode to harlan pepper.

lunch for a tiny, tiny king

2011-02-21T08:23:00.000-05:00

1 roasted potato, 1/2 of a baked apple with nutmeg and cinnamon, and a spinach omelet with parmesan cheese.

the baron would like to know if someone would come to her house and cook for her like this, please.

awesome awesomeness that is too awesome

2011-02-17T07:48:00.001-05:00

a lifetime ago, when the baron was young, she thought she'd grow up to be an academician of the lit-crit variety, reading lots of fiction and theory and writing lots of insightful things and papers and essays (for publication and conference presentation, of course, because that's how it works when you choose the ivory tower route). she decided this for herself after reading 'the great gatsby', but before realizing a number of things about the world of literary criticism: that everyone, BUT EVERYONE, had done some kind of scholarship of fitzgerald; that 'gatsby' was the most well-mined of all of his works; that literary criticism is a hard racket to break into; that sometimes the best and most interesting cultural commentary isn't necessarily reflected in the fiction written by entitled white men.

so. that dream. out the window. ahem.

the baron, though, still has a thing for 'gatsby', and for fitzgerald. (tangentially, on one of their first dates, the husband took the baron to see fitzgerald's grave. she knew then he was a catch, but a CATCH!) she rereads 'gatsby' every so often - her well worn high school edition - cringing a bit at her nascent literary critiques. it still gets her, the story, the writing, the sadness, the ending - that damn green light.

----

sometime in the 1980s, the baron and the brother were gifted a nintendo gaming system. the graphics seemed, to the baron, light years more sophisticated than the atari she had previously played. they had, maybe, three games? super mario brothers, tetris, and something else... she can't remember exactly what.

over time, the brother became quite good at those first games, and over the years has become a very, very skilled player of video games. for the baron, who has painful memories of playing against her brother during his late adolescence, the original nintendo system remains her favorite.

(painful memories you say?

the baron: i don't want to play.

the brother: come on. come ON! mortal kombat is great.

the baron: i don't want to. you always kill me right away.

the brother: i won't.

the baron: really? ok. how do i make my person jump? or kick?

the brother: [starting the game] it's easy.

the baron: how?

the brother: it's easy. figure it out.

the baron: but. how.

the brother: dude. did you see that? i just pulled your spinal cord out. cool.)

----

someone else likes 'gatsby' too, and some old school nes. the baron's been at it for two days and can only yet get past level 1, but reader? it's kind of awesome.

today's word is diversion

2011-02-09T09:02:00.001-05:00

the baron was at a fabric store the other day and spotted some very deeply discounted halloween fabric. deeply discounted enough, in fact, that the baron had this thought: 'hmm. halloween is coming, and baby x will need a trick-or-treating bag...' and before the more prudent side of her brain could counter with 'halloween is yet 8 months away', the baron found herself at the cutting table asking for three yards, please.

the baron was at the fabric store to pick up thread to match a large - very, VERY large - quilt she's working on; that tree below, constructed from lots of different fabrics and appliqued onto a white panel of fabric, is the center of the quilt.

has the baron mentioned it's a big quilt? so big that her tiny singer sewing machine is dry heaving at the thought of having to quilt it? so big that it's more practical to talk about it in feet rather than inches?

so big that the baron decided to take on the smaller, more manageable task of a trick-or-treating bag instead.

oh, but reader, it's a lovely bag. totally worth two days away from the quilt-of-nearly-unmanageable-proportions. she made it reversible, using two fabrics: one rather silly and one a bit spookier. thus, depending on his mood - or his age - baby x can select which side he'd like to use.

see!? clever, handy bag, eh? this small project was not a useless diversion.

wait, was today's word denial?

tea for two

2011-02-08T14:02:00.000-05:00

the other day the baron decided it was time for baby try some tea, good habits starting early and all that.

as only half of baby x's tea went into his lap *and* he seemed to enjoy the bit of it that went into his mouth, the baron declared their adventure a success. woot.

february 6, 2010

2011-02-06T07:39:00.000-05:00

poor harlan.

the big game

2011-02-04T09:54:00.000-05:00

the baron is obviously not talking about the super bowl. she knows what she'll be doing on sunday.

goodnight baby x

2011-02-02T07:23:00.002-05:00

the husband and baby x have a very well developed bedtime routine. each night, the husband and baby x select two books, which the husband reads aloud while holding the books with one hand and baby x with the other. once the books are finished, the husband recites 'goodnight moon', from memory, always ending with 'goodnight baby x'.

the baron isn't sure - or can't remember - why 'goodnight moon' is the book that is repeated night after night. it's short and rhyme-y, certainly, which gives the book an easy-to-memorize quality. but then, so is 'i love you, goodnight', another book in baby x's library. 'goodnight moon' is not even the most delightful of baby x's 'please, please go to sleep now' books (the baron favors 'guess how much i love you', which is so lovely to look at and to read that her heart breaks a little every time she finishes it).

there is something charming, and kooky, and amazingly clever, about 'goodnight moon' though, something the baron only figured out after reading the book a countless number of times. once she spotted it, 'goodnight moon' really started to grow on her.

it's that, in 'goodnight moon', margaret wise brown is self-referential, ridiculously so. 'goodnight moon' and another of her books, 'the runaway bunny' (also lovely in a makes-the-baron-cry-every-time kind of way), are all over 'goodnight moon'.

to wit:

the book on the little boy bunny's bedside table? 'goodnight moon'.

the only book on the bookcase with a readable spine? 'the runaway bunny'.

the painting on the wall behind the quiet old lady whispering hush? an image from 'the runaway bunny' (it's the scene where the mommy bunny fishes for the baby bunny. no, really, fishing, like in a stream, with a carrot as bait).

the quiet old lady whispering hush? the mommy bunny from 'the runaway bunny'!

the little boy bunny in bed, to whom 'goodnight moon' is read? the runaway bunny from 'the runaway bunny'!

it's all very cute and very meta, but here's the thing: these hidden asides aren't immediately obvious - at least they weren't to the baron - and that makes the baron love them even more. they're super-secret jokes, put in by author and illustrator, for reasons hard to immediately discern. no doubt, with a little help from her friend google, the baron could learn all about 'goodnight moon', for the gentle winks contained within it have no doubt been cataloged by someone, somewhere on the interweb.

but, reader? the baron probably won't bother with trying to find out the whys and whens and how-many-other-times about 'goodnight moon'. it's kind of delightful enough, just the way it is.

breakfast and some things to do today

2011-02-01T07:44:00.001-05:00

it's another grim and dreary day where the baron lives.

the baron's bastardized version of a cafe mocha is a good way to get the day started... especially since she has a long day in the kitchen ahead of her (see that to-do list below).*

*reader, this is baby x's menu for the next week or so. is it weird that baby x is eating like a king - a tiny, tiny king - while the baron eats protein bars and water with the occasional piece of whole wheat toast thrown in for good measure? sigh.

all this useless media

2011-01-31T09:32:00.003-05:00

reader, can you pick out all the unfashionable media* in the photo below?

*that'd be: records, laserdiscs, magazines, tapes, tape deck, record player (under that blue cover on the right side there) and laserdisc player (under the record player). also pictured, though only glancingly so: compact discs (baby x is marshaling his considerable skill and concentration to extract a cd case from the shelf). new media what now?

wherein the subject of breasts is visited

2011-01-26T08:04:00.000-05:00

baby x is now nearly 10 months old (!), a fact for which the baron and the husband are grateful. he's healthy and happy and wanting to explore more and more of the world. he's now eating solid food, real solid food, the kind of food that makes the husband occasionally say, as he looks longingly into baby x's food bowl, 'that looks good. if he doesn't finish it, i will.'

the baron spends at least two days a week planning and cooking and freezing meals for baby x, and he's now into adventurous fare like broccoli, rice and cheese casseroles and indian spiced lentil stew. it's an exciting time for the baron and the husband, watching baby x taste new things FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME, and for baby x, for whom everything is exciting and potentially the best thing he ever ate. he mostly likes everything, even (or especially) the addition of herbs and spices to his meals.

however. all this excitement comes with a seemingly insignificant side effect, seemingly insignificant if you are anyone but the baron.

because baby x is now eating three meals a day plus snacks, the baron doesn't nurse him very often anymore. she went, in rather short order, from nursing him 10-12 times per day to their current schedule of no more than 4-5 nursing sessions per day. nine months ago, when her breasts weren't in great shape (you know, reader: tearing, bleeding and other kinds of baby-induced traumas), she would have given anything for the nursing experience to be over. she often thought, in those early days, that breastfeeding for an entire year (as is recommended by the american academy of pediatrics and also EVERYONE ELSE THE BARON ASKED ABOUT IT) seemed like a ridiculous goal, one that she was certain to fall short of.

but.

now nine months on, she's quite good at nursing; it's become second nature for her, and for baby x. now, breasts healed and anxiety about 'is baby x eating enough? AM I STARVING HIM?' mostly abated, she's a bit sad about their diminished bonding time. it's normal, she knows: as he eats more solid food, he drinks less breast milk.

she says to friends that she's looking forward to baby x's first birthday, the one year mark, the day she can start him on dairy milk. this is partly true: it will certainly be easier to provide dairy milk to him on a long trip - or even a short one - than to breast feed him. except that there's a part of her, a not-very-small-part of her, that's looking forward with sadness, waiting to mourn the end of this special time. crazy, eh?

on the move

2011-01-19T13:20:00.009-05:00

no, really.

baby x is on the move.

that time at the orthopedist's office

2011-01-17T16:36:00.006-05:00

the baron and the husband and baby x spent a good part of their morning yesterday at an orthopedic surgeon's office, in way-far-out-there maryland. they were there on behalf of baby x, by way of referral from his pediatrician. the fat folds on his chubby legs are asymmetrical, which may indicate a wee bit of trouble in his hips.*

in the waiting room, baby x crawled about on the floor upending magazine baskets and chewing on backpack straps. also in the waiting room was an elderly woman and her black-and-blue eyed son (upon whom, apparently, a tree branch fell). the woman sat down near them, opened her bag, and extracted a small beanie baby toy. this beanie baby - a floppy eared dog - had seen better, cleaner days.

'can i give this to him?' she said, gesturing toward baby x.

with as much grace as she could muster, the baron offered the woman effusive thanks for the kind gesture, but said that the toy was a bit on the small side for baby x. in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'WHEW. bullet dodged THERE, eh? well done, the baron! no strange toys from strangers for baby x!' she cast a sidelong glance at the husband and imagined him giving her a psychic pat on the back.

but.

the woman had a counter offer, one that the baron could by no means have anticipated.

she said, 'i have a plastic bag full of toys in the car. i have a very big teddy bear in there, would he like that? would he like a teddy bear?'

the baron said, '...', followed by, '...'

in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'what the what?!'

[reader, let's pause this scene for one minute. usually, the baron isn't so much a fan of people. just in general, people in general. in a waiting room, you'll often find her in a corner with a book and her sunglasses on. this morning's waiting room was no different; left to her own devices the baron would have taken baby x to a corner of the waiting room and tried her hardest to convince him to play quietly.

but.

babies rarely want to stay quietly in a corner, and baby x is no different. also, babies are kind of old lady magnets. and this woman, with the past its prime beanie baby, was old. 72 years old, she said. and it seemed as though she, like the beanie baby, had seen better days. during the brief time she spent with the baron and the husband, she mentioned that her middle son died 14 years ago and that her youngest son had terminal liver and pancreatic cancer but had been refused treatment by everyone and was 'pretty well using'. 'using', in this case, meant to indicate drugs, as far as the baron could tell. also, her oldest son, did the baron mention, had been attacked by a fallen tree limb and had black and blue eyes?

it seemed that, in this case, this woman needed to gift a gently used stuffed animal to baby x MORE than the baron needed to heed her own instinct to avoid strangers. the idea that baby x
might appreciate and delight in a very large second hand teddy bear seemed to genuinely make this woman happy.]

the baron said, 'if you're sure and you don't mind, then he'd love a teddy bear.'

she made off to her car at a quick clip and returned with a black plastic bag from which she pulled a very large teddy bear. and a frog.

the woman said, 'i give away a lot of toys, at mcdonald's or arby's. i get them from friends. i give away a lot of frogs especially. see?' at this, she opened her jacket to reveal her sweatshirt: a cartoon frog, underneath which read Forever Relying On God.

[reader, let's pause this one more time.

ok. this was the moment when the baron began a mental retreat. without looking at him, the baron knew the husband was doing the same thing. baby x, on the floor with his new bear and frog - because, oh yes, she gave him one of those too - couldn't have been happier or more oblivious to the extreme religiosity happening above him.]

the baron, being not especially religious herself, made a series of oohing and aahing sounds while her brain whirred away trying to find a natural end to the situation, a graceful escape to the conversation. none came, but luck was with them:

they were called into an exam room by the nurse.

*trouble in this case having to do with hip dysplasia. the pediatrician thought baby x's hips felt fine, but based on baby x's fat folds suggested the trip to the orthopedist to be sure. the orthopedist, after a full physical examination and x-rays of baby x's hips, felt that baby x is perfectly healthy.**

**baby x needed to stay perfectly still during the x-ray; the husband and the nurse held baby x on the table to keep him still. the baron hovered outside, waiting for the x-rays to finish, and over mild grunting heard emanating from the from the room heard this from the nurse: 'this is a strong baby!'

in the 2011

2011-01-14T09:30:00.004-05:00

reader, it's been a good long while since.

since what?

since the baron has come to this place to check in.

she has no good excuse. excuses. life and baby x are, it seems, perennially in the way.

sigh.

the baron wants to ease in slowly, so:

baby x has just now taken down the next highest row of cds on one of the two cd towers in their sunroom. this is not a particularly sturdy cd tower and needs anchoring to the wall, but in truth, the baron and the husband perhaps did not anticipate their son standing and reaching and grabbing at just 9 months old. they maybe thought they had a wee bit more time to figure things out.

the cd tower is safe for the moment, however, as baby x is now trying to reach the telephone charging cords on top of the telephone table. in the process, he has become stuck underneath the telephone table, trying repeatedly to stand up straight and finding repeatedly that the underside of the top of the table will not allow him to do so. another long day ahead.

an open letter to baby x, or embrace immobility

2010-10-12T15:25:00.004-04:00

dear baby x,

it's hard to believe you're six months old now! i want you to know that your father and i are excited and happy about your progress. it's thrilling to watch you take in your surroundings, to begin to recognize people and places.

ahem.

i want to talk to you about something, though, something that's been bothering your father and me. lately, at night, when we check on you in your crib, we find you, um, not exactly as we left you. sometimes you're moved just a little to the left or right. sometimes, you're rotated 180 degrees and have flipped from your back to your belly.

now you're exhibiting this disturbing desire to move all the time during the day as well. today, for example, i put you down for a nap in your crib. i swaddled you, as insurance that you'd stay wrapped up tight on your back. when i checked on you 20 minutes later, this is what i found:

baby x, that's you there, with your swaddling cloth wrapped all around your legs. and also, you appear to be trying to break through the bars of the crib. you appear to be smiling.

your father and i are very happy about your progress, did i mention? but, let's consider taking things down a notch, huh? i'm beginning to miss the days when you stayed put, when your arms and legs hardly flailed at all, when you were super content to lay on your back watching the ceiling fan spin.

just something to think about.

love,
the baron

like sea turtles hatching on a beach...

2010-10-05T16:25:00.005-04:00

when the baron was a senior in high school, she participated in academic decathlon. the details are extremely fuzzy to her now; she remembers that there were 10 areas of competition (um. duh. decathlon.), but of those 10 she remembers only the music (listen to and identify this piece of music!) and speech sections.

of the music section, she remembers nothing save this: one of the pieces was by Aram Khachaturian and she could only recognize that by the fact that it was, that year, being used for a pork commercial as well (pork! the other white meat!).

the speech, she was much better at. she crafted 5 minutes about moving on from high school to college, and the metaphor she used was sea turtles. she chose them because she liked sea turtles. they seemed sublime and content, floating out there. her speech began with baby sea turtles hatching on a beach, then moving unprotected into the ocean... like children moving on, unprotected, to college. clever, eh? (it's worth noting, maybe, that the baron lived at home all through college - college that her parents paid for; not altogether too treacherous.) when it came time to apply to college, she turned her baby sea turtle speech into, you guessed it, her application essay. she got a lot of mileage out of those sea turtles.

she still likes sea turtles. she's not the only one, and thank god for that.

open letter to baby x: integrity

2010-09-27T08:59:00.005-04:00

dear baby x,

this week your father had an unfortunate experience with some men with whom he had been professionally friendly. the men and your father parted ways, initiated by the men, but the situation was badly handled: common decency wasn't afford your dad. it's a shame, because some of these men have children, and i worry about the message being sent to them. integrity and courage are important, in big ways, yes, but also in small ways: everyday, common acts of kindness. perhaps it was time for your father to say goodbye; new plans abound, and he's already moved on.

baby x, we hope many good things for you: success and happiness, health and wisdom acquired in youth. we also hope that you'll walk tall, and know from an early age that the hard thing and right thing are sometimes the same thing, and that there's no shame in struggling to reconcile that fact. the shame comes when we recognize that the hard thing and the right thing are the same, yet choose instead a path of least resistance. in short, we should be ashamed when we act the coward.

i want you to know that, in spite of the sober tone i've taken, not every situation will be a challenge. fortunately, oftentimes, the right thing and the easy thing are the same thing. these are moments that you should recognize, that we will help you recognize, so that you may be more prepared and comfortable to make the hard choices that will inevitably be presented to you.

your father spent a good part of his childhood, and a good part of his adulthood, with his fist in the air, so to speak, raised in defiance. i want you to know that he has never been averse to a challenge, even when the odds were very, very clearly stacked against him. i also want you to learn from his example, and to know that while things are often shades of grey, they are also often black and white: if your father and i do our job right, the best thing to do and the right thing to do will always be clear to you.

love,
the baron

barney doesn't live here

2010-09-03T14:13:00.004-04:00

early in her pregnancy the baron and the husband decided that no "children's music" would darken their doorstep: no barney, no dora the explorer, no mickey mouse... you get the picture, reader, right? their only concession to baby x's age and need for soothing sounds are a series of cds called rockabye baby, which re-imagine popular songs as lullabies. they've got the beach boys, coldplay, u2, and the beatles, all retooled enough to keep baby x sleeping, but still highly and easily recognizable as music the baron and the husband actually like.

baby x and the baron share their first nursing session of the day with the amelie soundtrack, scored by yann tiersen. (they used to start the day with simon and garfunkel, until one morning when the husband happened upon them listening to 'bridge over troubled water' and suggested it was kind of heavy for the baby). lately, before his bath time and dinner time, baby x is danced around the living room by his father to 'everyday people' by sly & the family stone. sometimes it's led zepplin, and once it was the cars... but no one wanted a repeat of ric ocasek. baby x's days are filled with a playlist the baron and the husband built for baby x, containing the likes of phoenix, the rolling stones, vampire weekend, rem, the killers, the beatles, u2, coldplay, and one song by cat stevens (you can guess which one, reader, can't you?).

their house will likely, eventually, see more conventional children's music, especially once baby x gets out and about into the world. until then, though, the baron and the husband are liking their chance to shape his musical tastes. fingers crossed that what they teach him now will stick.

the things she is grateful for

2010-08-23T19:43:00.014-04:00

miss you, chester.

mourning glory

2010-08-16T13:16:00.004-04:00

the baron, the husband, baby x, and the two big dogs have plans to travel to upstate new york later this week. the husband has made this trip many, many times; the baron just twice.

they'll be visiting the husband's members of nuclear and extended family, one of whom is very, very ill. this trip is will give baby x a too-brief opportunity to meet his kin, and the baron wishes the circumstances were better.

she's got no sense of humor about this; pithy is the best she can do.

summertime reading

2010-08-13T08:22:00.004-04:00

'you have given me a country', by neela vaswani, was released earlier this month. neela is a friend of the baron's, a good writer, a good woman, just good. also, she's not afraid to speak a thoughtfully placed curse word, so.

the baron has yet to purchase 'you have given me a country', but will soon (it's on her list of things to do this weekend).

read an excerpt here, and a bit about neela here. then maybe add the buying of 'you have given me a country' to your weekend list of things to do as well.

incomprehensible, uh, ramblings

2010-08-13T01:01:00.007-04:00

reader, the baron was recently wondering why she hasn't written in so long. she wondered this while scraping curdles of her own breast milk from under her fingernails and realized, oh, right.

from her last post, which she titled 'part 1', the baron sincerely intended to flush out a series of 'parts', describing her first few weeks and first few experiences of parenthood. that, sadly, will not come to pass... because of, you know, the scraping of curdled milk from under her fingernails. also, because of the profound lack of rest. also, because she lately has a hard time laying her hands, so to speak, on the right words:

the baron: the husband, will you hand me that... uh, that... uh... ...
the husband: [expectant look on his face] yes?
the baron: that, uh...
the husband: come on, honey, use your people words.

usually, the baron is scraping around for food processor, burp cloth, spoon, water - you know, reader, really rarefied words. NOT. to say her mental acuity has taken a significant hit is to state the obvious, but it has and duh.

most days she's carried along by the gentle motion of repetition: feed baby x, burp baby x, play with baby x, baby x naps, watch 'the west wing' (josh and donna, can't you just admit you love each other?), feed baby x, burp baby x, and so on until the evening when the husband comes home and the day's tenor changes. the baron looks forward to 6 pm, when the husband gets home; he's much needed company, and a much needed reminder that she's not in it alone. also, he's a dab hand at pouring her a glass of wine, so. that makes a difference.

after baby x's bath and bottle (of which he gets two or three a day, after his bath and overnight, if he wakes up, and one for breakfast), the baron and the husband prepare their dinner and have conversation while doing so. reader, it might be the baron's favorite part of the day: a real conversation where the husband tells of a world outside babies and curdled breast milk, where anecdotes don't begin and end with the contents of a dirty diaper. he always listens intently - or mostly intently - to her rantings about the day, even if her stories are pretty much the same. see: paragraph above. at this point the husband usually reminds the baron to take a shower, because reader, sometimes she needs some reminding. having gotten the curdles out from under her fingernails and having simply taken off the peed-on pants seems like 'clean enough' to her. sometimes she needs reminding.

they end their day together, on the sofa, with dinner and whatever television is on, or something from netflix if it's come. they're working their way through 'the wire': dinner and 'the wire' is a good night for the baron. they're usually in bed by 9:30, and the baron typically falls right to sleep, unless she doesn't. sometimes she stays up listening to the baby, unable to sleep though wanting to so very badly. some nights she stays up wondering how stringer bell can be so handsome and so evil at the same time, or worrying about the fates of omar little and bubbles.

anyway. about those other parts, she had originally intended to write a series of posts on a series of themes, but reader? let's just shorthand this one, ok?

part 2. the baron loves capri sun, or, breast feeding makes the baron very, very thirsty.

part 3. seventh generation was the best option, or the baron and the husband looked around for other, more viable and earth-friendly option than standard diapers but didn't come up with much. though it bothers the baron that baby x is starting his life with a big gaping soul debt to the planet (hello, earth, sorry about all those diapers...), she couldn't find a better option than this.

part 4. diaper rash is a real threat, or, make sure baby x is very, very dry before closing up that fresh diaper, because dude. some body parts should never be that color red, if you catch the baron's drift.

part 5. contrary to her own beliefs, the baron can function on just a few hours sleep. for days and days and days.

part 6. 'the new yorker' comes just once per week, 'good omens' is kind of hard to hold with one hand, but 'the lorax' never gets old, or, the baron reads to baby x. a lot. baby x has a number of those cardboard books, the ones that are good for babies to chew on, but reader? the baron spends hours and hours per day entertaining baby x and is only able to read 'five little monkeys' and the like so many times before wanting to claw her eyes out; early on, she decided that it couldn't actually hurt to read more sophisticated fare out loud to him. courtesy of 'the new yorker' and 'harpers', baby x will be able to speak to you at length about the war in afghanistan and the current state of the economy.

part 7. counting to ten doesn't actually work. having the husband repeat the refrain 'i love you. stay calm.' does, or, the baron is short tempered. the baby tests her limits on a daily basis. parenthood offers no shortage of opportunities to FAIL. the baron is just trying to have more good days than bad.

part 8. the baron hated being pregnant: the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, the shrinking wardrobe. the baron loves being a mother; it makes the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, and the shrinking wardrobe totally worth it. or, this baby? kind of amazing. he's recently figured out how to roll over, has begun babbling and cooing, can reach for toys, and is interested in the world around him. he's a delight and everyone who meets him comes away with a smile.

it's very early in the morning now, and the baron is thinking about going back to bed. even though baby x is sleeping nearly 10 hours nightly, the baron isn't: she gets up every night around 1am, no matter what, to pump and refrigerate breast milk. she thinks of this early morning ritual as the penance she must pay for, you know, pregnancy and stay home parenthood, but oh wait.

more later, maybe.

parenthood: 1. getting there

2010-05-18T19:51:00.009-04:00

the baron's cesarean section incision (and her insides too) are very nearly healed.

six weeks and two days ago, the baron and the husband went to the baron's obstetrician for her 39th week checkup. the doctor checked the baron's overall health, then checked her cervix for dilation and came up with a whopping 1/2 centimeter. the baron, at one week from her due date, was one-half inch dilated, suggesting that the baron's body was saying 'hello? not quite ready for this. let's wait a bit longer. just a bit.' baby x, conversely, was pushing down on her cervix, hard, the in-utero version of, 'hello world? i am ready to come out.'

the doctor suggested that labor be induced, that very afternoon. to this, the husband said (and reader, the incredulity was heavy, heavy in his voice), 'wait. you mean, we go to the hospital today and we get a baby tomorrow?' to this, the doctor said, 'yes.'

that afternoon found the baron and the husband making for the hospital. traffic was kind to them, and they arrived at the hospital just on 4:30 pm. by 6 pm, the baron was hospital gowned and waiting on the on-call doctor to begin her inducement.

inducement: it comes in two parts sometimes, as it did for the baron. she received prostaglandin gel at 9 pm, intended to, uh, ripen her cervix (thus making dilation more likely). in theory, this sounded like a great idea. in reality, the insertion of the gel caused baby x's heartbeat to decrease. in a really frightening way, the kind of way that made four nurses and a doctor rush into the baron's room. they laid their hands on the baron, pushing and pulling her this way and that, trying to find a good position for baby x, one that would alleviate pressure on him. they put oxygen tubes into her nose. the medical people held their breath and watched and waited, a collective whole, and the baron and the husband did too.

baby x recovered. the baron and the husband passed the evening awake but pretending to sleep, or trying to. reader, it was a very, very long night.

the baron was meant to take a room in the labor and delivery unit the following morning at 11 am when she would receive the second drug - pitocin, to dilate her cervix.

however. no bed was available in labor and delivery at 11 am. or at noon. or at 1 pm.

in fact, no bed became available until after 5 pm, which meant that the baron did not receive her pitocin as scheduled. which means, reader, that the baron's cervix stayed locked up tight, hovering at right around 1 centimeter. but reader? the gel, the one meant to soften? that gel started her contractions, gently at first, then not very gently at all.

so not-very-gently-at-all, reader, that by 5 pm (when she as finally moved into labor and delivery), the baron began courting the friendly nurses, chatting them up about the odds of her receiving an epidural post-haste.

near 6 pm, the baron was connected to the pitocin drip. it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed again. and recovered, again.

at 6:15 pm, the baron was introduced to the anesthesiologist, a lovely man bearing a lovely gift. the epidural was administered, but it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed for a third time. and recovered.

at 6:30 pm, the on-call doctor - the man who would be delivering baby x - entered the baron's room and examined the baby's heart rate monitor print out. he seemed perturbed and was quiet, and the baron and the husband were too. too much quiet coming off a doctor makes a person nervous.

doctor: how invested are you in the idea of a vaginal delivery?

the baron: uh.

the husband: uh. can you talk us through the benefits of one over the other?

doctor: your baby's heart rate has dropped three times since you've been here. when he passes through the birth canal, because of the strength of the contractions, we'll expect his heart rate to drop again - that's natural - but for your baby, given these three incidents, i say why not just go with a c-section and remove the risk of his heart rate decreasing for a fourth time? also to consider, if we begin the vaginal delivery and his heart rate drops too precipitously, we may end up having to do an emergency c-section anyway.

the baron and the husband took the doctor's advice. it was 6:45 pm.

by 7 pm, the husband was being outfitted in too-large-for-him blue scrubs, and the baron was being shaved. she had long since shed her vanity.

by 7:15 pm the baron was being wheeled into an operating room.

at 7:20 pm, the husband was allowed to join her, taking a seat near her head. their view of the baron's nether region was blocked by a blue sheet.

at 7:25 pm, the baron - totally, totally devoid of feeling from the ribcage down - was being mined for baby x.

at 7:44 pm, baby x was born.

at 7:44 pm, the husband leaned over the baron's face and kissed her forehead. he whispered words into her ear, and the baron's insides swelled with emotion bordering on ecstasy. reader. the baron and the husband made a baby. he was born, scooped out, and with him came more love and light than words here can convey.

at 7:45 pm, one of the nurses charged with cleaning baby x gasped, 'oh my god, is that red hair?!'

by 10 pm, the baron, the husband, and baby x were back in the labor and delivery room, waiting for transport to the recovery floor.

below, how the baron and the husband kept themselves occupied during their 5 day stay.

it's been a long time, reader

2010-03-19T09:16:00.010-04:00

reader, the baron is pregnant. still. she's about three and a half weeks out from her due date, though really? isn't that due date just a best guess? so at this point the baron is pretty much on tenterhooks trying to listen to her body's every tic and sigh. as in, 'hm. is that the baby kicking or the start of labor?' it's kind of distracting, actually.

her behavior - this constant self-monitoring on the lookout for labor - is not a recent development -she's pretty much been obsessively listening to her body for the past nine months... thus, she has no real, good excuse for her prolonged absence these last few months. where has she been? the answer to *that* question is, she's been nowhere. let's chalk the silence up to job stress and nesting distractions, how's that?

so.

three and a half weeks out. this home stretch is taking forever, in the baron's opinion! she's very much feeling her weight now, as well as every little shift the baby makes. she's tired all the time, and wanting to sleep all the time (these developments having come on in the last week or so)... but has a hard time sleeping for anything beyond three hours before having to pee again. and the pee? can still be measured in teaspoons. her blood pressure is elevated, and she's having nausea again, as well as wicked, wicked indigestion. though she knows it's best for everyone if he makes it as close to 40 weeks as possible, the baron is kind of ready to expel baby x post-haste. well, ready except for the lactation specialist she and the husband have yet to find. ready except for the pediatrician they have yet to interview. ready except for the hospital bag that languishes on the bedroom floor in anticipation of ALL THE THINGS YET TO PACK INTO IT.

so. mostly ready.

however, things aren't entirely bad for the baron. spring is very nearly upon her, and the last week was gorgeous beyond the telling of it. she and the husband had a baby shower, thrown for them by very good friends, and baby x is ready for his converse closeup. and that last photo? that's a cheesecake with apricot glaze and strawberries. baby x, see all the wonderful things waiting for you?

harlan in repose.

baby shower courtesy of gina, kathy, and kevin.

itty bitty converse courtesy of lady x.

cheesecake by the baron.

baby x, the future might be ok

2010-03-11T12:05:00.000-05:00

exchange of the day

2010-03-10T13:10:00.000-05:00

the husband: what is the going rate for an irish chinese greek french baby?

the baron: like to sell? depends on the hair color.

baron gets a bath

2010-03-02T07:10:00.004-05:00

photo essay: a series of snow days II

2010-02-12T07:24:00.001-05:00

photo essay: a series of snow days

2010-02-11T09:07:00.000-05:00

30 week checkup, everything's just fine

2010-02-10T08:53:00.003-05:00

the baron and the husband went for a sonogram earlier this week. sonogram checkups are always exciting for them because - unlike at the obstetrician's office, where they only hear baby x's heartbeat - they get to see the baby! it's true, neither one of them have mastered the art of reading the sonogram scans, but they can always pick out his breathing and his heartbeat. they pretty much take the word of the tech that oh, yes! that is clearly his foot! and yes, i can see his hand right there! still, it's pretty exciting.

the techs who administer the sonograms vary from appointment to appointment. on monday, the baron and the husband got a lovely woman who was only too eager to comment on every sonogram image she took of baby x. this, the baron mostly liked.

there was, though, one thing the baron didn't like:

tech: wow. that's a big baby. wow.
the baron: what?
tech: well, you're 30 weeks 3 days today, and he's the size of a baby at about 33 weeks 4 days.
the baron: what? is that ok?
tech: that's fine. looking back over your scans, he's been like this - large - the whole pregnancy.
the baron: better bigger than smaller, right?
tech: absolutely right. that's what the doctor would say too.
the husband: the doctors are obviously all men.

modern medicine is such that the tech, based on his measurements, was able to tell the baron and the husband that baby x is 4 lbs.

so.

there's 9 weeks left to go.

readers, keep your fingers crossed that baby x tops out around 7 or 8 lbs. the baron's vaginal canal thanks you in advance.

a wicked case of writer's block

2010-01-19T12:52:00.005-05:00

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.

something quiet

2010-01-15T13:17:00.000-05:00

a dynamic performer

2010-01-12T08:04:00.005-05:00

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 with the new

2010-01-06T08:40:00.004-05:00

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.

two girls from a long time ago

2009-12-31T08:32:00.003-05:00

the baron and the husband have spent the better part of the past week rearranging their very small house to accommodate the arrival of their very small new family member. the doing of this - the rearranging - mostly entails the cleaning and purging of the office... here forward known as the baby's room.

the cleaning out of dark spaces is always good for surprises, and reminiscences, and memories of walks down rosehill drive. see the below video, from november 9, 2003.

do androids dream of electric sheep?, or, baby's first playlist

2009-12-21T10:11:00.016-05:00

there are big changes happening at the baron and the husband's house*, not the least of which has to do with the baby kicking forcefully enough to be felt by hands on the baron's belly. because the baron and the husband are original thinkers (wink, wink), and because the baby is at the stage where he can (supposedly) "experience" things outside the womb, they have lately been reading to him. 'shouts and murmurs' mostly, but also 'the westing game'. most recently, they've decided to introduce the baby to music; the baron fell asleep last night with a pair of huge headphones securely affixed to her big, big belly. baby's first playlist looks a little something like this:

good day sunshine (the beatles)

near wild heaven (rem)

shine a light (wolf parade)

find the river (rem)

country feedback (rem)

shine a light (the rolling stones)

dream operator (talking heads)

one fine day (david byrne & brian eno)

stay (faraway, so close) (u2)

the funeral (band of horses)

heroes (david bowie)

*other changes include a new roof, 9 new windows, a new refrigerator and stove, and a new car. it's been a busy month. also, this past weekend dumped a huge amount of snow on maryland. see photographic proof, below.

camera ready, oh yes he is

2009-12-15T08:40:00.002-05:00

readers,

the baron will post something soon. she promises.

in the meantime, see the husband, expertly hocking his social media wares, here.

i really thought this was a non-issue

2009-12-03T12:03:00.001-05:00

the long hello

2009-12-03T08:43:00.006-05:00

reader, the baron has been scarce around these parts lately; she doesn't really have good reason for it. lots and lots of things have happened since last she checked in - but she doesn't really have the energy to fashion them into a pithy story. instead, can she just recount them for you, list-style?

-the husband left for egypt on november 22. he's having a time ('a time' being the average between 'a good time' and 'a lousy time', which are the two poles the baron can glean from his emails) traipsing up and down the country. evidently there are donkeys everywhere, and he'd kind of like to bring one home.

-the brother came for thanksgiving, arriving the wednesday before and leaving the monday after. the baron had high hopes that she'd be able to entertain him, or at least muster up the energy to get up and out of the house, but not so much with either of those things. they mostly sat on the sofa, watching season 1 of 'dexter', which the brother brought to the baron and the husband as a gift. the baron, having so far dodged 'dexter', was surprised to find that she liked it, so much so that they bought season 2.

-the baron had the 20 week sonogram this past monday. the husband could not attend, but the brother was able to, and the baron was glad: she did not want to go to the appointment alone, particularly when such big news was to be revealed. reader, the baron and the husband will soon be parents to a baby boy. yes, they have a name. no, they will not tell you. they think it's jinxy to share it just now.

-the baron and the husband have settled on their new car, though the purchase of this car is postponed until the husband is back from his trip. the baron, though she likes the honda pilot, is still having a hard time with its cost. and gas mileage. and size. and also, the husband? what's wrong with the crv again? can't we revisit it?

-the baron is lonely. or specifically, the baron is missing the husband, and the missing him makes her feel very, very lonely. internet connectivity is, evidently, spotty in egypt, so she's heard from him only intermittently. thus, she's been rereading some of their email exchanges, both from this trip and before, just to have a little electronic taste of him in absence of the real thing. the husband has a facebook page, and from it he sent her the below list of 25 things that he reported about himself. she likes reading these things about the husband, partly because she likes seeing him as he sees himself, and partly because she believes it's a supremely accurate representation of his awesomeness. read on to see for yourself:

1. I love a good fight. More precisely, I enjoy conflict -- especially a verbal argument that forces me to think about my position on something and have to defend my beliefs. Conflict is growth and the foundation of all natural processes. It isn't a bad thing. And I rarely care if I “win” the fight. I do get snarky when the fight is trivial and not worth it.

2. I was an avid reader until college beat it out of me. I still like to read, but not as much as my wife would like me to. New Yorker magazine helps as I am reluctant to pick up modern fiction and would rather keep rereading classics like a dork.

3. Used to blame PG county schools for a negative disposition towards public education –I would spend the odd (3,5, 7, 9, 11 ) years in TAG (Talented and Gifted) classes, and the even years in SLRD (Slow Learning and Reading Disabled) from elementary to high school. There was no “normal kid” class and I bounced from one end to the other because I tested well but was disruptive. As an adult, I realized this pendulum affords one variety and a depth of understanding most don’t have opportunity to see. Read – I can see from many perspectives.

4. I am physically clumsy, mostly because my mind and body tend to do separate functions (ask any drummer about this) at the same time. I was persistently clumsy as a youngin’ – so much so that a lot of what parents and teachers thought was “acting out” was in reality accidental mindlessness. It earned me a reputation as a temperamental and destructive person, which helped keep people from criticizing me for my clumsiness. So…it kinda works for me.

5. Went vegetarian in 1990 in part due to poverty, animal rights, bad memories of my mother's cooking and a faint idea of right behavior (reading a lot of Thoreau and watching Taxi Driver will do that). I went Vegan in 1992 for same reasons but with more education due to animal growth hormones in dairy as well as understanding of dairy industry practices. I am still vegan and keep finding things in diet that aren’t (Curse you Guinness!). I don’t lecture people or judge them on their choice to eat meat or not. It is antithetical to my beliefs to think I have a right to tell another person what they can do with their body (outside of not using it to hit me).

6. Never thought I would live past 18 -- those who knew me in high school know why. If not, read number 1 and number 4. Seriously, all this life since then is butter.

7. Was an altar boy and very religious until 12 when I became frustrated arguing with the dogmatic speeches of priests instead of having a dialogue with the church. Never had questions answered and have been more engaged in Taoism as a belief system for the past 15 years. For me, religious experience is about finding the right answers to the right questions and not about dogmatic repetition of unoriginal thoughts that are then used to judge others and limit how they use their time on the planet.

8. I grew up in Japan before moving to MD when I was 7. I have always had an affinity for Japan. I have a tendency to move at least every 2 years. This somehow answers a need for curiosity, but becomes costly. I now just accumulate more homes each time I move. (I am so looking forward to my tax rebate – that stuff is all deductible).

9. Lived in San Francisco and would live there again if could afford it. It is, in my opinion, the best city in the United States.

10. Want to retire to Samos ,Greece, were my grandmother came from. I can’t read, write or speak Greek. That stuff is hard! But am willing to learn to live an agrarian life on my own little farm with orange trees and goats.

11. I have been shot, stabbed, hit by cars, beaten by gangs with bats, struck by bottles and cigarettes thrown from vehicles and had an all around joy of being alive. I can laugh at all these things and isolate their occurrences from the individuals involved as part of what it means to be in the human experience. Most likely, I had all of those things coming anyhow.

12. I have totaled 6 cars so far...reference item number 4. (Don’t let me borrow your car.)

13. Been fired from more places than most people work in a lifetime. All non-professional service industry jobs. To name a few: Brass Duck, 7-11 (seriously, 7 –11), Shoneys, Red Lobster, Bennigans and an auto salvage yard. Reference topics 1 and 4.

14. I broke my arm when I was 4. I was on the swing in the playground when the teacher announced it was snack time. I slid off the swing at its apogee about 12 feet in the air and landed against a pole. I flattened another kid and broke his leg. Not my greatest moment and I never got that snack.

15. I love my job. I worked professionally in the private sector and was miserable. I believe in the value of civil service, the mission of my agency and my efforts. I think have the best job in my office because I can be creative, proactive, engaged and involved in a lot of things that really affect other people. If I do my job right, it affects them in a positive way.

16. Knew I wanted to be with woman who is my wife moment I met her. (She wishes to remain anonymous on the Internet, though) She, however, was not initially so certain of my particular value. She thought of me as that kid who talked too much and should go get a room with his beloved James Joyce and leave the rest of the class to discuss real topics. I won her over with Pez during the final exams. They’re vegan, sorta.

17. I really like and respect my parents. They are incredibly good people. I am always shocked when I think of how smart, caring and law-abiding they are. Sometimes I think they adopted me and I didn’t deserve parents that good.

18. My greatest fear is being homeless (again). I was on and off homeless for several years after high school and into college (house rule was out at 18 and be an adult). I spent months living at my job (where I didn’t get fired from) and out of my van (which I parked on the Mall and not down by the river) and friends' homes. This was not so dire for a young man who thought he was living a near ascetic life of a Taoist monk. But as I grew older it all just got too annoying. (That and having to use campus rec centers for all your hygiene needs will cause you to make a lot of new friends you really don’t want). But it isn't the fear of losing everything, which I have done many times, it is the fear of letting down those who depend on me that scares me.

19. I am happiest when playing music. Even if it is bad music. I can get lost in time and thought just playing the drums.

20. I am most comfortable in chaos. Order disturbs me. Limits and boundaries seem arbitrarily imposed when I don't feel as if I had any participation in their establishment. This may be a juvenile sentiment, but the philosophical extraction is that order imposed is tyranny. And therefore open for revolt. Chaos is disorganized revolt and only the truly organized can find meaning and direction…

21. I rarely get sick and I get very little sleep. I get injured a lot, but that natural disconnect between mind and body lets me not think of the pain or recognize a serious injury until my wife makes me go see a doctor. Although last year I had trigeminal neuralgia which was total crap to deal with. They gave me dilaudid, oxycontin and valium for a week. I was not very productive.

22. I have traveled a lot. Personally, professionally – there are few places in the US I haven’t gone through. Seriously. I have yet to finish South America and Asia, have yet to go to Africa and India, When I travel for fun I backpack and don’t know where I will end up…which is why the wife goes on separate vacations to nice destinations.

23. I believe in all rights for all creatures, so this means animal rights, human rights, civil rights, gay rights, religious rights, whatever. So long as another person’s practice doesn’t prey on the rest, then they should have equal rights under the law.

24. I alternate between simplicity and over complication in art and appreciation -- My favorites are Burroughs and Bukowski, along with Joyce and Shakespeare; The Stooges and the Misfits, along with Brian Eno and Stereolab; Picasso and Matisse, along with Howard Finster and "found objects". It isn't that odd-- if it is straightforward it has to have a lot of energy to affect the body; if it is obtuse, it should spark the other parts of the brain that don't get regular exercise.

25. My family is my everything, Sounds lame, but they are my reason why. And I am lucky to have them….the ever growing lot of wife, dogs, cat … donkey? goat? potbellied pig?

food for thought

2009-11-24T09:48:00.002-05:00

reader, the baron is having a tough time coming up with content this week, though - admittedly - not for lack of activity in her life. *sigh*

in the meantime, try this piece from slate.com, which is of particular interest to the baron.

good things from the weekend

2009-11-15T16:19:00.003-05:00

reader, the baron had another good weekend, "good" having been determined by a) the amount of hours she spent outside the house and in the world, and b) the number of times she had to use her 'emergency bag' (the plastic shopping bag that the baron has with her at all times, secreted away into her pocket, her purse, her desk drawers, and her car?).

she and the husband had a lovely and busy time: over the course of saturday and sunday, they visited a honda dealership (and test drove both the pilot and the crv), a mall (AND they ate at the food court; this, reader, does not happen to them ever - in fact, the husband's falafel and the baron's fried rice might have been their very first food court date), a bookstore (barnes & noble, no less, and mostly for gift shopping), and a series of asian grocery stores.

on the whole it was a highly satisfying weekend, one that ended with the baron and the husband, on sunday afternoon, sitting in the yard and enjoying the uncommonly fine weather. the baron took the opportunity to take this photo, "a man and (one of) his dog(s)".

new car shopping, or can the baron get a second helping of that humble pie?

2009-11-10T07:50:00.007-05:00

last weekend, for the first time in weeks and weeks, the baron felt well enough to stand a prolonged trip out of the house. she's beginning to feel that, into her 17th week of pregnancy, things are finally looking up (well. except for the peeing thing. and the migraines.). the baron and the husband have been putting off shopping for new car, and the sudden reappearance of her health (or some semblance of it) seemed as good a time as any to start. they made a 2pm appointment at a toyota dealership for a test drive; they were interested in the highlander.

the test drive was fine, but the car was not. it sat a little low for the baron's liking, and the console was so busy that the baron was immediately put off by all the extraneous knobs and buttons. also? the speedometer and the tachometer were very deeply recessed into the dash; the baron felt she was looking at them through tubes. this annoyed her. and, to her dismay, the baron learned from the salesman that cars are pretty much no longer manufactured with manual doors and windows; everything is electric and push-of-a-button (and, she thinks, totally more vulnerable to a bum battery or loose wire*).

the baron and the husband had pinned all of their hopes on two cars: the toyota highlander and the honda cr-v. that the highlander would be functionally ugly did not occur to them, and - having definitively crossed the highlander off their list - they decided to visit a honda dealership on the way home (the baron would like to interject that their trip actually started with a trip to target, then on to the toyota dealership, then honda... the baron felt VERY VIRTUOUS for spending so much of her saturday outside the house). they pulled into the honda parking lot, fortuitously into a space right next to a cr-v.

sigh.

it turns out, reader, that the cr-v is rather smaller than the baron would like. she's fairly sure that she'd only be able to fit one of the two bigger dogs into the very back of the car; ideally, the new car they select will fit all four dogs, three humans and chester the cat.

the husband then spotted something called the honda pilot, a car the baron had never even seen before. it's the honda version of the toyota highlander, and reader? its console and dash are not ugly, but are simple and normal looking. the pilot has three rows of seats, the last of which can be pushed down to make room for, say, two big dogs and even maybe a cat carrier. the middle row has plenty of room for a car seat and a least one, say, 30 pound black dog and maybe even a 17 pound dachshund and a suitcase.

the only problem with the pilot, actually, is that it's not the kind of car the baron can see herself driving. before this pregnancy, the baron was sure her next car would be a prius; she was very, very excited to join the green vanguard. her concession to pregnancy and their expanding family was the cr-v, which seemed smallish and manageable, something not too embarrassing in terms of size, but alas. damn the cr-v's lack of canine cargo space!

sigh.

instead, the baron will evidently be driving a honda pilot. she's trying to talk herself into it, into the idea that it's not too big a car, that it's not too much car, that they (the collective 'they', the eight of them - four dogs, one cat, and three people) need a car of that size. and, reader, they probably do. that sound though, the loud jarring one? it's the sound of the baron's ideal version of herself crashing into fragments around her feet, the version that had: no husband, per se, but instead a man she'd refer to as life partner; no children but lots of dogs and no cats; a rented row house in the city rather than a mortgage in the suburbs; just one small car that played second fiddle to public transport.

that woman, whoever she is, will never be the baron, and the baron is thinking she should do away with her aspirations to become that woman. because, reader? the baron's life is pretty sweet - dogs, cats, pregnancy, husband, mortgages, morning sickness, and all the rest. it's pretty sweet indeed.

*these opinions of hers - this distrust of cars outfitted with electric everything - were formed a long time ago, with with one of the very first cars the baron every owned: a 1995 ford mustang. it's a long story, reader, one that ends in flames on the side of the 60 freeway. xtina? remember that afternoon?

a word about pee

2009-11-05T07:19:00.004-05:00

lately, whenever harlan awoke from a nap, a long one or a brief one, his right front leg seemed as though it had fallen asleep or was very, very stiff. the baron gingerly massaged this leg, from harlan's shoulder to his foot, testing to see if there were any obvious spots that pained him.

there were not, and yet, the right front leg lameness continued.

the baron was able to get a vet appointment on short notice, and on tuesday of this week she and harlan went to see about his leg. the baron explained about her ginger massages, about how his leg seemed to be asleep, about how once he warmed up everything seemed fine. the doctor performed her exam ("what clean teeth you have, harlan!") and her own ginger massage on his right front leg, with lots and LOTS of stretching. she determined that there was no fracture, that it was most likely a soft tissue injury (read: sprain or bad bruise), that she felt a little arthritis in his wrist, and that she wanted to observe him walking to see just how much he favored his left leg over his right one.

the vet tech removed harlan from the exam table, placed him on the floor, and walked him out of the exam room and to the end of the lobby, for a distance of about 25 feet. the doctor squatted at the other end of the lobby and called harlan, who worked up a pretty good trot to return to her.

but.

he stopped mid-trip to lift his leg against the wall. of the lobby. the baron was embarrassed and surprised, considering that harlan had very recently lifted his leg in the vet's office parking garage, against numerous trees on the way to the vet's office, on the stairs leading to the vet's office front door, and finally on one of the large planters that flanks the vet's office front door. really, thought the baron, how can he have any left?

----------------

a long time ago - three summers, actually - when the baron and the husband had just returned to maryland, their friend laura came to visit. (actually, laura had gamely agreed to accompany the baron and dexter, harlan and tucker on the drive from phoenix to college park, so... less a visit, and more a working vacation.) the baron can't exactly remember the details of the day (was it morning? evening? afternoon?) or the circumstances (had they just arrived from their journey? what day of the week was it?), but she does remember this:

she and laura, standing at the sliding glass door of the in-law apartment they were temporarily renting, watched dexter, harlan and tucker race across the lawn, happy, no doubt, to be out of the car and back onto grass.

at some point, tucker drew their attention. he sidled up to a bush and lifted his leg to pee. he peed. and peed. and peed. and peed. and peed. and laura looked at the baron and said, "no way." tucker was still peeing.

----------------

the baron's mother has a box tortoise, a lovely one, called mr. ninja. the baron, in childhood, thought reptiles were bloodless and personality-less creatures... something about their black eyes and lack of fur.

but.

mr. ninja is awesome. when the baron and the husband would bring the dogs to visit the baron's mother, mr. ninja followed tucker around the baackyard, making his version of tortoise play: nipping at tucker's feet. the game proceeded thusly: tucker jumped up, moved to a comparably comfortable spot, and stretched out on the grass. mr.ninja approached him as stealthily as possible, angling for tucker's feet; once close enough, he reached out for tuft of tucker's foot hair, only to be foiled when tucker spotted him and jumped up. play on repeat.

mr. ninja's dearest dream is to come into the baron's mother's house. if the screen door to the backyard is left open, odds are good that you can find mr. ninja pulling himself up over the threshold and into the kitchen. it's actually quite a sight, since to do so he has to overcome a six-inch step.

once, while visiting, the baron thought she'd help mr. ninja along.

[the brother told her from the outset it was a bad idea, something like, "hey. you better not do that. he'll pee." the baron couldn't see how a tortoise the approximate size of a cereal box could hold that much pee. she waived off his warnings.]

she lifted him into the kitchen, ready to see him tear across the linoleum. instead, he made his slow, steady way about 8 feet into the room and peed. and peed. and peed. and peed.

for a small animal, he let loose what seemed to be a gallon of pee. the liquid radiated out from mr. ninja in a larger and larger and larger puddle, until the baron was roused out of shock to move him back outside.

the brother was vindicated, and could be heard to say, "i told you."

the baron was surprised by the enormity of the puddle... and went to get paper towels.

-----------------

the baron is thinking about pee this morning because, frankly reader, she's having a hard time doing it. going pee, that is.

she lately has been waking up once or twice a night with what feels like an unbearably full bladder. in response, obviously, she moves toward the bathroom, but alas! mere splashes fall into the toilet. where, she wonders, is the rest of the pee? because, reader, when she gets up again? gets up from the toilet after having just finished her business? she still feels that her bladder is full.

this troubles her, this issue with peeing. the baron will readily admit that she's not VERY good at VERY many things, but peeing she pretty much mastered around her first birthday.

she's decided that pregnancy is like a gauntlet, and that all these things - the peeing, the nausea, the weight gain, the lost vanity, the gained flatulence, the indigestion, the sleeplessness, the migraines, and the whatever else is coming - are specific and mean hurdles that have to be overcome, unfair and extremely annoying physicalities to bear.

the baron, never one for gauntlets, is just trying to make it through. day to day.

today's word? endure.

five is the right number, or, an open letter from the baron

2009-10-28T12:18:00.005-04:00

dear readers (and by "readers", i really mean "mother" and anyone else who thinks that five is not the right number),

i was recently gifted the book "flawed dogs" by the husband. it's the story of sam the lion, a perfectly bred prize dachshund who has had a rather unfortunate life. over the course of the book, he sees the inside of a dog-fighting ring, the inside of an animal testing facility, a dog shelter, and the westminster kennel club dog show. the book's pages, meant for the eyes of teenaged readers, are populated by all sorts of dogs, most of them shelter-bound cast offs.

i read this book in one sitting, in, oh, two hours maybe, crying most of the way. why would the husband give a highly emotional pregnant woman who is already inclined to collect stray dogs a book about a stray dog whose flaw is that he is UNLOVED? why would he do that? i can only conclude that - despite his protestations - he, too, believes five to be the right number.

so. carry on, and i will too.
-the baron

so much pregnancy test carnage

2009-10-26T08:54:00.000-04:00

lats friday marked the end of the baron's 14th week of pregnancy, which means she's now a bit into the second trimester. she's feeling better by inches as the weeks pass, but has still not recovered her pre-pregnancy energy levels. she's back on complex carbohydrates, though, so that's a definite plus.

she read a few baby books early on- in the vein of 'what to expect when you're expecting' - and was delighted to learn that pregnancy may (or, as things go, may not) exacerbate headaches in women who are prone to them anyway. the baron, lucky gal (!), is prone to them, real, REAL migraines that come from nowhere and last for days into weeks, their strength waxing and waning: sometimes, the pain is receded, into the far corners of her head, other times, it's at the fore, at the right temple, and affecting everything she does.

reader, wouldn't you know it? despite her hopes to the contrary, the baron IS one of those women for whom headaches are worse during pregnancy! she's made this judgment based on the 4 week bender going on in her brain, the one that the extra-strength tylenol isn't fixing at all (oh, excedrin for migraine, how she misses you). the quality of this migraine is peculiar, what with the fact that it seems to originate from up along the right side of her neck and into her head. so. that's kind of new.

at first, because of the weird neck thing, the baron thought maybe too many hours at her desk or maybe the mostly-deflated state of the bed pillows might be to blame. she's tried making adjustments: changing the angle of her computer's monitor at work, new pillow configurations, self- and husband-administered neck massages, all to no avail. in the end, the baron has decided that the headache? the one that seems like IT WILL NEVER GO AWAY BECAUSE ALL SHE CAN TAKE IS EXTRA-STRENGTH TYLENOL? that migraine?

the baron believes it's the baby, using all his/her leisure time to develop new and fashionable styles of migraine headache. because that's what fetuses do.

also, thyroid cancer? was headache free.

---------------------

the photo below was taken last august, on a morning when the baron felt a little off - a little sick to her stomach and achy. she took one test, which came back positive, then sent the husband back to the pharmacy to get as many other pregnancy tests as he could lay his hands on; they wanted to be sure, false positives and all that. even though the baron is bitter, today, about her appetite, and huge boobs, and lovely fall wardrobe that no longer fits over her hips, and the headache, and the frequent (but, admittedly, diminishing) vomiting, she's very, very, very happy about those tests. and about being pregnant. go team!

the best 4 minutes you'll spend all day

2009-10-21T08:10:00.005-04:00

the baron cribbed this off boing boing this morning, and it really is the best video clip she's seen lately.

um, california? do you really want maine to lead the way on this one?

the baron says...

2009-10-19T08:26:00.002-04:00

...she is sorry for not having posted something proper in such a very long time. she feels badly about it, but has been otherwise preoccupied.

...thank you, if you have come here checking for posts.

...pregnancy is turning out to be harder than she imagined it could be. today she is at the start of her 14th week of pregnancy, and the morning sickness has yet to really, truly subside. she still spends each day planning meals, trying to imagine what will appeal to her fickle appetite later in the day. more often that she would like to admit, a feeling of panic (usually related to, 'good god, i haven't eaten in 2 hours. where is the food?!') rises up inside her; she spends a good amount of time taking measures to avoid that feeling.

...a bummer about this whole pregnancy process? the size 10 underwear she bought yesterday. and the 36c bra. and the up to 190 lbs tights. her vanity, with which she was always fairly well acquainted, is actually a much more powerful force than she ever realized. sigh.

...other bodily things about pregnancy are a bummer too. mostly gastrointestinal ones. she won't go into details, but would like to note that tucker and baron are not the only gas factories in the house anymore.

...thank god for the husband, he who does all the dishes and brings the baron food in bed. she is a lucky, lucky woman.

...yay! halloween is almost here! the baron will take off the day before halloween, and has a full day of fun planned! she will carve pumpkins (plucked from this farm), and bake (both pumpkin seeds and cookies), and drink cider to her heart's content. also, she will call the brother and wish him a happy birthday.

home schooling, part 2

2009-10-19T08:21:00.002-04:00

if you have a moment, check this out, the second installment in a series related to home schooling your children. the baron has read it, and is thinking about it.

what's in a name?

2009-10-15T08:03:00.003-04:00

the baron: so, one of my students was telling me that we shouldn't give our child a name that's too, you know, out there.

the husband: oh?

the baron: yeah. he said we didn't want to start our children off "one down" in life. i told him that, of course, from his lofty position of [redacted, easily and obviously pronounced 4 letter name] he was able to say something like that.

the husband: oh?

the baron: also, he had lots of advice about parenting... he's got multiple children, and is, ah, very religious. i was hoping the name topic wouldn't come around to last names, but it did. i told him we don't have the same last name, and that we hadn't settled on the baby's last name yet...

the husband: you should have told him we're waiting to pick the last name because we don't know who the baby's father is.

the baron: right. because things are funny when i'm a whore?

the husband: no. well, yes.

home schooling, not just for fundamentalists

2009-09-28T09:40:00.003-04:00

the baron read this article this morning, and was surprised to find it very persuasive. the baron hasn't been made a home-schooling convert, but isn't nice to know that there are ways out of the box?

a brief interlude (die, morning sickness, die!)

2009-09-23T08:17:00.007-04:00

the baron has been thinking about the next part of her story - the pregnancy story - but frequently finds herself unable to complete her thoughts. she wants to write about the process of having a baby (complicated by her medical history), about this one more adventure she and the husband will undertake.

but, reader?

the baron is sick. so sick, in fact, that she white-knuckles it through most days, barely making it into the early afternoon before having to leave work for home. it's the morning sickness.

(an aside: please, spare the baron any advice you have about remedies for morning sickness, for she has tried them all. ginger pills, ginger tea, ginger ale, 7-up, bland foods, zofran, lemon slices, sea sickness bands, laying down, excercise... all of it amounts to nothing. well, nothing but the same nausea.)

the baron has never, really, been one to think about food. she's vegetarian, and she likes organic things on principle, so there's been that aspect to her dining habits for the last 10 years or so, but beyond that... she pretty much has always eaten when and what she wanted.

but.

for the past 6 weeks, the baron has been obsessed about food. OBSESSED. she thinks about it all the time, from the moment she wakes up to about 30 minutes before she falls asleep. what to eat, and when did she last eat, and does she have at hand what she wants to eat? and will this thing that she's eating stay down? and if it doesn't what will she eat instead?

she unable to eat the same thing more than two days in a row, which means that, reader? if you're talking to her, it might appear that she's listening, but really she's thinking about something new to eat. at first it was bagels with cream cheese, then grilled cheese sandwiches, then edamame, then sourdough bread toasted with butter, then chicken wings, then top ramen, then grape nuts cereal, then corn pops, then corn flakes, then honey combs, then smoothies, then soup from a can. now she's onto microwave dinners - enchiladas turned out to be a disaster, so she's trying pasta with cream sauce. also, last night she had a turkey and swiss cheese sandwich on white bread, with mustard. notice, please, the total absence of fruits and vegetables. such is the joy of pregnancy.

there are times, though, when nothing sounds good, when the baron sits in her office or lays in her bed and tries her best to imagine something to eat, because reader? the only thing worse than the nausea is being hungry AND nauseous at the same time. while the nausea does occasionally lead to actually throwing up, hungry AND nauseous guarantees that the baron will keel over the toilet (or a sink, or her office trash can, or whatever plastic bag is handy, or - this one unfortunate time - the husband's tropicals planting bed) and vomit up bile.

this is tricky, beacuse it means that the baron can never let herself get hungry. which means that she has to eat every 90 minutes or so. which means that every 90 minutes, she's faced with the difficult task of imagining what, GOOD GOD WHAT, to eat.

she can barely function throughout the day, between thinking of eating, eating and slamming shut her office door to express whatever she's just eaten into the trash can. she can barely sit through meetings without having to hunker down and exhale deeply through her mouth to beat back the nausea rising up her esophagus. she can barely think of what to write here; most days she doesn't even remember that she has a blog, such is the joy of pregnancy.

however, she's trying. to write. so be patient, and bear with her.

abrupt reversal of a 30 year certainty, or, part one of what will become a very long story

2009-09-15T08:18:00.006-04:00

reader, the baron knows she's been scarce around these parts lately. the end of summer always makes her feel a little 'meh', and, um, also she's having terrible, terrible morning sickness. because, oh, yes, she's pregnant.

for those of you who know the baron and the husband, you will immediately note that this seems an abrupt reversal of their previous plan, the one that involved lots of dogs and no children? indeed, when first they met, it seemed serendipitous that neither the baron nor the husband wanted children. this was something they established very early on in their relationship, something that was dispensed with thusly:

"me? kids? no thanks."
"me too. my family's got too many of them anyway."
"really? great. moving on... i'm actually not *that* into fugazi."

**********
that conversation (or one very similar to it) was a very long time ago, almost 9 years now, and in those intervening years, the baron and the husband have had some adventures - madcap and otherwise.

for instance, just before they moved to san francisco:
"i've always wanted to live in san francisco."
"really? it's kind of a hippy town. makes me think of wool socks and birkenstocks, worn together."
"..."
"ok. let's go."

and then, just before they moved to phoenix:
"we'll never be able to afford a house in san francisco. or, really, even a 400 square foot studio apartment."
"not until that earthquake comes and flattens the housing market, probably not."
"let's move, get a mortgage, and pay equity instead of rent."
"ok. where?"
"dunno. somewhere relatively close to my mom so she can dogsit."
"well, california is most likely out, even inland southern california."
"arizona? phoenix?"
"ok. do this soon?"
"ok. think we can fit in house hunting before we leave for greece?"
"hm. find a house in one weekend....? sure."

and just before the husband moved to new orleans:
"i've been offered a job in new orleans. i think i'll take the dogs and move into the w in the french quarter until i can find a rental house."
"ok. meet you there?"
"ok."

and 6 weeks later, just before taking an alternate job in washington dc:
"the husband, i am having the worst friday afternoon ever! my car broke down on the 60 freeway. at 5 pm. and my cell phone is about to die. and i've been waiting for the tow truck forever. and it's so hot!"
"i'm sorry your car broke down. i was assaulted by a large group of baseball-bat wielding youths in the marigny. in broad daylight. i am currently giving my statement to the police. i am not having a good friday either. can i call you back?"

**********
last november, the baron was channel surfing, looking specifically for stacy london and clinton kelly (because, yes, the baron is a fan of 'what not to wear'). instead, on the channel where these two and their sadly dressed prey would normally appear, the baron found, sigh, 'jon and kate plus 8'. this was the baron's first exposure to this show and family, and at first, she marvelled at the sheer number of children. then, she marvelled at the mouth on the wife, because really? what husband wants to be spoken to like that? then, as her attention was waning and she was ready to surf the channels elsewhere, the couple sat down for an interview and the baron heard, "i'm only 32, and i have 8 kids..."

the baron thought, "what? i'm only 31, and i have no kids!", then said, "the husband, you're 36 and you have no kids!"

the husband was startled by this.

**********
the baron wasn't REALLY inspired to have a child by 'jon and kate plus 8', but it did get her mind working.

she thought about all the times the husband would say, "man, my kid would be in so much trouble all the time!" (to which the baron would respond, "with whom will you be having this child? because my child will be in the library. behaving."), or "do you ever think about what our baby might look like?", or "man, my kid will totally skateboard! and play the drums! and be curious about everything!" she thought about all the times she had considered what their child might actually be like; that, if she were very, very lucky, her child would be very much like the husband.

it started to seem like, for a couple of people who had long since decided against children, they were spending a fair amount of time imagining what their family of three bipeds might look like. and that realization, coupled with the fact of the baron's age (she was, last november, 31), and the husband's age (he was, last november, 36), got her thinking.

**********
a series of tense conversations followed before they made the excellent choice to drop the matter entirely until after christmas: they would retreat to their corners and reconvene later to discuss.

in the end, it came down to this:
one would reason, we have a good life.
true, the other would say, but what if? do we want to be in our 50s and full of regret? who can ever reconcile a baby-shaped hole in their heart?

sometime around start of january, the husband said, "let's try. it'll be fun, one more adventure for us. we'll just set aside some time, and if it works, it works, and if it doesn't, well, that's that."

monday conversation

2009-09-08T11:21:00.002-04:00

-if we have a baby, there'll be just three of-... i mean, just eight of us.

-you mean, just the whole fucking lot of us? that should be the name of our sitcom.

the best thing...

2009-09-04T09:22:00.003-04:00

...is when someone you respect (even from afar) keeps proving himself or herself worthy of your admiration. to wit, the baron loves neil gaiman.

caroline is a lovely name

2009-09-01T16:49:00.001-04:00

-what do you think about caroline?

-i like it. oh, what about rosamund?

-ack. no.

-what makes you think of caroline?

-this song, it's called 'caroline says' by lou reed. it's about a girl who commits suicide.

-that's really nice. none of our children will be named after lou reed songs... it's like giving them a ticket to heroin addiction right from the start.

because they have so much room for all their other crap

2009-08-28T09:08:00.003-04:00

last night, the husband came home from a quick errand to the grocery store with this to say:
"isawanuprightpianoonthesideoftheroadan'ialwayswantedoneandthisone'sthereforfreean'canihaveit?"

to the baron - ignorant in all things piano related - the phrase 'upright piano' suggested something slim, something petite. something that maybe came with a strap. something that could sit unobtrusively in a corner of the basement, near the husband's drum kit. the baron had a parallel train of thought that went something like this: 'hey. they husband doesn't know how to play the piano...' but his enthusiastically shining face was too much for her. she consented and he hopped down the front stairs to get to the truck, to get to the piano. the tiny, unobtrusive, be-strapped one.

ahem.

in the end, it took the husband and a neighbor twenty minutes to unload this piano from the back of the truck into the basement... because reader, it's not very small at all.

in fact, it's rather piano sized. regular piano sized.

and it's only just barely related to a piano, as far as the baron can tell, since one is able to play, with the push of a button, any number of instruments on this 'piano'.

sigh.

butterfly bush

2009-08-24T08:43:00.002-04:00

two years ago, maybe three, the baron and the husband planted two butterfly bushes near the front steps of their house.

it turns out they actually DO attract butterflies...

every afternoon the baron - and the dogs, when they're not otherwise preoccupied with squirrels - takes a seat on the front steps to watch the aerial traffic, all blues and yellows and blacks and browns.

the end of summer

2009-08-19T07:40:00.007-04:00

the baron and the husband had a very successful summer, as far as the vegetables go. (fruit, reader, was significantly less successful: three strawberries, a handful of blueberries and blackberries, and lots of peach pits don't add up to much.) sadly, summer is coming to and end, and the vegetable plants in the garden are beginning to wither... last weekend, the husband took out the cucumber plants, and it seems that the watermelon (one fully mature fruit so far) is not far behind. though the tomatoes, hot peppers, green beans and okra are still quite healthy and productive, the baron is quickly losing interest in the garden. she cannot, for instance, fathom canning ANYTHING ELSE. which means... free tomatoes for everyone!

lousy things happen, or, an open letter to the husband

2009-08-12T08:27:00.005-04:00

dear the husband,

i'm sorry you didn't get that job. i'm even sorrier that the whole thing reeked of 'pre-selected winner', since you were told you didn't get the job not 6 hours after interviewing for it. i'm sorry that a bumbling, weak-spined fool of a woman got it instead. i'm sorry that your personal style has been called into questions - though, to be fair, how seriously can you be taken in jeans and tucker logo shirts? in any case, the reference to your clothes was a very low blow indeed, and i'm sorry that someone thought to judge you based not on your skills but on your sartorial choices.

i've been thinking lately that i'm just so tired of maryland: the humidity, my job, everything. then i realized, this august we've been here three years... which is the longest we've been anywhere since the early 2000s. when recounting our life together, i always mention the cities we've lived in, and then i say, 'i think we had wanderlust in our hearts.' but, the husband, i still DO have wanderlust in my heart. i know that we can't pick up and leave like we once could, for we are bound to this place by work and mortgage and the good gs rating. but, sigh, i wish it weren't so.

the recent change in my medication dosage is, i feel certain, also adding to my grumpiness and general lethargy. i clearly recall the reasons why we decided to alter my dosage, but the husband? those reasons are seeming less and less compelling to me lately. i miss my health.

ok. let me try to end this on a high note, since it's been pretty much a downer so far.

next monday, we will celebrate our three year wedding anniversary, and your 37th birthday. our anniversary snuck up on me, and i must confess: i've thought not at all about gifts for you. my thoughtlessness, though, should not diminish the importance of the day, not at all! i love you, i still love you, and i hope we don't get divorced.

xo,
the baron

lately, or damn that zipper, or, humble pie tastes good

2009-08-05T09:25:00.008-04:00

today, the baron is thinking about zippers, about how they are tricky little buggers, about how- even with the fabled zipper-foot-that-will-ease-your-sewing-grief - they are still RATHER DIFFICULT to apply to a, any, every sewing project. the baron is currently working on a skirt (too many seasons of 'project runway' has led her to believe that she, too, can create!) and spent the better part of yesterday evening adding a zipper - a hidden one, no less - to the waistband. the baron is kind of 'meh' about elastic, but reader? after this zipper agony, elastic is looking very, very attractive to her.

the bummer? that after adding the zipper, she still has more to do! it seems to her that the adding of the zipper should be the final step, not the penultimate one (for there is still finishing to be done). penultimate is bollocks, she is thinking.

also.

those of you who know the baron know that she doesn't actually watch that much television, especially during the week. she misses out on a lot of stuff, even stuff she likes, but alas. she'd rather end her day with a book than with more looking at a longer-than-it-is-tall screen. because, you know. SHE DOES THAT ALL DAY LONG.

anyway.

she misses out on a lot. some of it's good, too; television, it's true, is getting better all the time. see for instance, '30 rock', and 'gilmore girls', and 'veronica mars'.

see, also, 'friday night lights'.

reader, the baron cannot believe that she enjoys this show, what with the football and texas and all, but SHE REALLY DOES. by way of explanation:

shortly before leaving for ireland, the baron and the husband went thrift shopping; the baron wanted something to read since they'd be traveling for A VERY LONG TIME. and reader? it was a boon day at the thrift; she found: 'encore provence: new adventures in the south of france' (she already had 'a year in provence' and 'toujours provence') and 'chasing cezanne', both by peter mayle; 'under the tuscan sun' and its follow-up 'bella tuscany'; 'the life and times of the thunderbolt kid', by bill bryson; and 'friday night lights: a town, a team, and a dream' by h.g. bissinger.

ahem.

the baron has been to both provence and tuscany. she's a fan. so you, reader, can see why memoirs extolling the virtues of the european lifestyle might appeal to her.

on a previous trip to the thrift store, she found 'a walk in the woods' by bill bryson, remembered his name from some almost-forgotten holiday gift, and decided to take a $.60 chance. 'a walk in the woods', it turns out, is good. and bryson's writing is great. so, from there, 'the life and times of the thunderbolt kid' did not seem a stretch, right? the baron believes that good (engaging, interesting, lively, entertaining) writing can transcend subject matter.

so.

'friday night lights'. she's not a football fan, not in the least. she doesn't get it, not any part of it. however, the baron believes that good writing can transcend subject matter, and she had heard praises sung in the name of this book. the flight abroad would be long, she would have time to kill; she took a $.65 chance.

'friday night lights' was the first book she read on their trip; she started it shortly after getting on the train that would take them to the plane that would take them to the other plane that would take them to ireland. at first, she hoped that she would not regret carting a 400 page book around ireland; she hoped that it would hold her attention for a little while at least.

reader. for real. the book grabbed her right away - it's an amazing, well-written non-fiction book about small-town texas football. it is depressing, and - yes - heartwarming, and shocking, and shot through with racism, and dreams (intact ones and broken ones too), and football. it's good business. it is, in fact, the opposite of a bollocks zipper.

she finished it before they even got to ireland. over the course of their trip, she reread parts of it. (the baron would like to mention that the book was published in 1990, so it's a little dated. the epilogue, however, makes up for that a little bit, and you know what? she'd like to amend her previous statement about good writing to say instead: the baron believes that good writing can transcend subject matter and era.)

so.

18 months ago, the baron found that a note had been left at her netflix account, from her friend lalee. it said, in part:
"football + texas = who cares, right? kids, let me tell how good this show is: it's good. give it a chance and you'll be surprised. honest. "

the baron's response (in part):
"it turns out "football + texas" does in fact =who cares. i just can't get behind it..."

now, 18 months later, the baron is forced to admit that, YES, LALEE, YOU WERE RIGHT, THIS IS MAYBE THE BEST SHOW EVER. I WAS VERY, VERY WRONG. YOU WERE VERY, VERY RIGHT. I AM EATING HUMBLE PIE, AND IT IS TASTY. and also, go panthers.

christmas in july, if only

2009-08-04T12:06:00.004-04:00

the action around the baron's house last saturday night:

-i'm making harlan pepper sit outside on the front porch.

-he's on the porch right now, sitting? why? he was bad?

-yes. he didn't come when i called, so i think he should have to wait on the front porch and watch all of us inside. he should have to watch all of us inside eating christmas dinner, like tiny tim.

-i think that doesn't actually work, because tiny tim was good, and also, i think tiny tim got to eat the dinner. so.

-oh. well. harlan's the bad tiny tim.

fingers crossed, or, an open letter to the husband from the baron

2009-07-31T08:20:00.005-04:00

dear the husband,

i think you are smart, and a good strategerizer. and also charming. i think that your interview will be smooth sailing today, and that your resume and experience speak for themselves. i also think that, even though your career is not born of cronyism, you should not worry about those who directly benefit from long standing friendships. furthermore, i believe that you should not concern yourself about those for whom obsequiousness is second nature; your talent and innate ability to lead outshine even the most accomplished sycophant. you, unlike them, are principled, which is among the very best things about you (in a dead heat, pretty much, with your willingness to do all the dishes all the time). i know you are not anxious, so i will not try to allay your nerves; another of the best things about you is your confidence, which is always and entirely kept in appropriate measure.

if, for some unfathomable reason, you are not selected for this job today, please know that it most likely has very little to do with you but has everything to do with circumstance and, sadly, military service bonus points. but, i prefer not to think of things that way. instead, i will imagine you in the interview, in your lovely suit (and beautifully starched and pressed shirt, you are welcome), passing your handouts across the table. whatever comes will come, and we'll address it then.

sending all my good thoughts, i love you,
-the baron

the garden in july

2009-07-30T06:44:00.004-04:00

the garden, to which the baron alluded in her last post, is overwhelming her. really. she looks at the full-to-bursting bounty and feels dread. who knew that, with just a little water, those plants would take off so aggressively.?

the other night, the baron had two dreams: in the first, the baron, her mother, and one of her lesser cousins are at disneyland with harlan and chester, neither of whom are on leashes. at one point, they pass a reflecting pool (the likes of which the baron has never seen at the actual disneyland). chester walks out onto the pool, turns to look at the baron, then lays down for a nap. on top of the water. like jesus the cat. cut to: the baron, in her dream, wakes up in the morning. she knows it has rained, and she decides to go outside to check the garden. somehow, the garden has become the size of a field and the baron has only planted tomatoes. tidy rows and rows of tomatoes. AND THEY ARE ALL RIPE. every one is ready to be harvested. and processed for canning. and then baron woke up, a sweaty tangle of sheets and panic.

doesn't that sound like a bad trip followed by a stress dream?

in any case, see the cucumber (one of anxiety-inducing thousands) below, and the watermelon (one of a more manageable 6) too.

it seemed such a good idea

2009-07-27T07:09:00.006-04:00

reader, as you may know, the baron and the husband are very, VERY keen gardeners. every year, they wait impatiently for the last frost to come and go so that they might get their newly sprouted seedlings into the ground.

early this past spring, the husband built three vegetable boxes in the sunniest spot in the yard. in previous years, they had had some success with vegetables, but the bounty was not nearly enough, so the baron thought, to justify the time, effort and expense.

so.

it turns out that gardening by box is a really good idea. a really, REALLY good one. so good, in fact, that the baron should not have erred on the side of caution by planting multiples of everything. and, reader, it's not as though she planted a few of each... she actually planted, for instance, 10 green bean plants, 18 tomato plants, 10 okras... you get the idea.

her worst idea by far turns out to be 16 cucumber plants, planted in rows of four, all of which are bearing cucumbers at an alarming rate. the baron thought that she'd try her hand at canning this year (she loves pickles), but reader, it's getting kind of ridiculous. she's spent the past two weekends a fixture in the kitchen, sterilizing jars and lids, mixing vinegar and water and pickling salt, trying to find a way to fit one. more. cucumber. slice. into a pint jar. it's been harrowing.

but.

she's still enjoying it. except.

after her last afternoon spent pickling, she now has a total of 16 pint jars and 3 quart jars of pickles; so, a lot of pickles. and there are still so very many flowers on the cucumber vines. AND the tomatoes (18 plants, remember?) have only just begun to ripen. sigh.

vic firth

2009-07-20T07:57:00.001-04:00

the other day, while on the way to see 'harry potter and the half-blood prince', the baron noticed that the husband had purchased several new drumsticks, left in a jumble on the back seat of the his truck and partially obscured by a jacket. the baron could just make out the word 'firth' on one of them.

-hey! do those drumsticks say firth? is that colin firth?
-vic firth. it's vic firth.
-oh, i thought-
-yes, because colin firth makes drumsticks? because I DRUM LIKE MR. DAH-CEEEEEE!
-...

scenes from a vacation

2009-07-15T05:37:00.001-04:00

the baron and the husband recently took a trip abroad, to ireland.

the baron thoroughly enjoyed their trip, especially:
being free of the husband's blackberry
the pleasant surprise of finding vegetarian restaurants in nearly every city they visited (and eating the vegetarian version of the traditional irish breakfast)
the weather
the excuse to imbibe every day - and she'd never had guiness or irish coffee before
the hotels
the novelty of watching 'gilmore girls' in a foreign country

the baron didn't particularly appreciate:
the lack of good fabric stores
that the husband hit two curbs
that gasoline cost 1 euro 20 per litre

below are some of the photos from their trip, which the baron has decided to present to you without context. enjoy!

tales of car ownership

2009-07-13T12:43:00.009-04:00

the baron drives a 13 year-old saturn, a gold one, a two-door coupe that has seen better days. she inherited this car from her mother four years ago, and - visions of NO CAR PAYMENT dancing before her eyes - was glad to accept it.

this car, a lady car, the baron named shep.

***

the baron's friend lalee has driven a mid-sized red chevrolet pickup truck for a few years now. this truck, bought new, was named pretty morgan freeman, or pmf.

***

the husband, who drives a full-sized, extended cab chevrolet silverado, has not named his truck. though this ford was, for the time they had him, referred to as aragorn.

***

mr. c recently bought a volkswagon rabbit, name as yet to be determined. (the short list, so far, is rupert.)

***

the other day, the baron retrieved a voice mail from her mobile phone, a message from lalee indicating that she was changing the name of her truck from pretty morgan freeman to hope.

the baron balked, and called the next day.

-dude, you're renaming pmf hope? that's a terrible name.
-H-O-P-E?
-right, hope?
-no, H-O-K-E. i'm renaming him hoke.
-hoke? that's a GREAT name. for a minute i thought i'd have to have some kind of intervention, like maybe you were giving up on life. or that you were imagining some kind of young woman with down syndrome who was overcoming some adversity. why are you changing the name?
-well, i'm not that big a fan of morgan freeman, and also, he's been secretly dating his adopted granddaughter.
-sorry, what's that?
-i read all about it at the huffington post, which - i think - sourced their material from the national enquirer.
-ah.

that time they went to new orleans, or, that time they thought they were moving to new orleans

2009-07-09T08:56:00.003-04:00

once upon a time, the baron and the husband thought they'd be moving to new orleans. the husband went out first, for work. he wasn't able to find a house or an apartment right away, so he and the dogs moved into the westin new orleans....

where they adapted to the lifestyle quite nicely.

then they moved into a house...

and the husband was assaulted on the street just outside the french quarter. strangely enough, after that, they decided new orleans was not the right place for them. they packed up their stuff and drove back to arizona.

that time they went to costa rica

2009-07-08T07:30:00.001-04:00

in 2006, the baron and lalee went to costa rica. on a lark. it was a pretty good week, and from these photos, it appears to be JUST TWO OF THEM, DOESN'T IT?

in playa tamarindo at witch's rock cafe. the baron and lalee showed those nachos who's boss.

lalee's birthday, another beach. april 7, 2006.

lalee's birthday dinner, playa langosta. awww-kward.

the entrance (from the beach) to the hotel. the baron really liked those monkey sentries.

coffee and cream and sugar. a good way to pass the afternoon.

their last night in tamarindo.

trying, unsuccessfully, to set the camera's auto timer before leaving the hotel.

their last breakfast.

that time they went to tahoe for that fire grant thing

2009-07-07T08:18:00.004-04:00

the february before the baron and the husband moved from san francisco to phoenix, they traveled to the nevada side of lake tahoe for the husband's work (something, something, fire grant). the details of this trip - the fire grant part, anyway - are murky. the following details, however, remain clear in the baron's memory.

it turns out, dexter has some kind of fascination with snow (and also sand). as in, she can't be in either one of them without going whack-a-doodle happy crazy... her joy is evident, below:

here are the baron, immediately after having FACED into the snow, and dexter, enjoying the day. did the baron mention, she's actually not that fond of snow?

that time the husband got hit by a hippie in a vanagon

2009-07-06T07:28:00.003-04:00

(he was shaken, but ok. and bought a dark grey silverado shortly afterward.)

that time they knew they were a family

2009-07-03T03:36:00.000-04:00

they climbed in there themselves. the husband just shut the door for the photo op.

that time the husband was mustachioed

2009-07-02T09:33:00.005-04:00

that summer they went to neela's wedding...

2009-06-30T08:04:00.003-04:00

in 2004, the baron, the husband, and their friend lalee were invited to a wedding in montana. the three went together - joined by dexter and the VERY NEWLY adopted tucker and harlan - and camped along the way.

the grand canyon: here, tucker is thinking it doesn't look so big.

here, the dogs are thinking they can take lalee and the baron into the canyon.

montana: resting on the shore of a lake, just after a two hour hike. harlan hated it, as you can see in his expression.

at glacier national park: the baron and lalee. the baron is thinking, 'is camping over now? because that would be really great.' harlan's thoughts are running along the same lines.

on extended break

2009-06-30T07:06:00.002-04:00

on wednesday, the baron and the husband are taking a train to get to a plane to get to ireland.
they'll be gone for a good little while, and - just guessing - the baron won't be posting while she's gone.

fear not, reader, for in the meantime, the baron has decided to post a random assortment of photos. view and enjoy.

screen on the green, or, really? a movie on the lawn?

2009-06-29T07:46:00.003-04:00

the other evening - an uncharacteristically cool and low-humidity one - the baron and the husband had small group of friends over to watch a movie. outside. projected onto an old, white bed sheet.

the baron, being rather more fond of indoor activities than outdoor ones, had reservations about the entire enterprise. however, in the end, all in attendance seemed to enjoy the night, and the baron was pleasantly surprised to find that:

-'back to the future' holds up pretty well
-citronella candles actually keep mosquitoes at bay
-everyone loves nerds and
-riesling is just fine to take the edge off

as it was a movie, the baron felt strongly that a concessions stand was in order (thanks to k for the popcorn)...

but harlan and dexter felt strongly that said concessions stand should be guarded...

while baron, ever the suspicious one, kept an eye out for the equipment.

the long view, to the bedsheet. the baron knows it seems a little hokey, reader, but trust her: it was actually quite fun! next up in the screen on the green queue? 'indiana jones and the raiders of the lost ark' - woot!

a new place to sew

2009-06-26T07:44:00.005-04:00

the baron and the husband were recently given a set of china that once belonged to the husband's mother. it's lovely, and the baron is VERY GLAD to have it.

but.

the arrival of this china, though welcome, is problematic because:

the baron and the husband live in a teeny, tiny house. their dining room, miraculously, has room for a 4 ft. round dining room table, a credenza, sideboard, and an arty looking (though functionally useless) table (one the husband zeroed in on at restoration hardware a long time ago and HAD TO HAVE). the dining room has also, for the past almost-three years, housed the baron's sewing table; it's tucked unobtrusively into an corner near the radiator. this is a small table, 3ft x 2ft at most, and when the baron wants to sew, she just moves the table over one room, poaches a chair from the dining room table, and sets herself up in front of the television.

the sideboard currently acts as liquor cabinet, bar glassware holder, and wine caddy. the credenza currently acts as bookcase for the baron's cookbook collection, and houses assorted other items (dinner trays and woven baskets mostly). the arty table? it holds a coffee mug full of wine corks, a white ceramic pitcher, and a really beautiful sculpture of an octopus.

back to the china. there's no room for it. currently, it's stacked on top of the sideboard, gathering dust.

but.

the baron has devised a solution to this issue. she moved her sewing table into the sunroom, into a spot she is forcefully calling a 'sewing nook'. this frees up one corner of the dining room, making space for maybe a moderately-sized china hutch?

finding a china hutch to fit the specs of this particular dining room corner will certainly be a long process.

but, in the meantime, see the baron's new sewing nook!

things that are approximately the same size as baron

2009-06-25T07:42:00.002-04:00

paperbackswap

2009-06-24T09:03:00.000-04:00

the baron happened upon this website the other day and found it to be a VERY GOOD IDEA. look it over, reader, and see if you can't find something of interest there for yourself...

the long goodbye

2009-06-22T08:36:00.002-04:00

reader, some of you know that the brother was recently here for a week's visit, having called the baron 6 days before his date of arrival to say, 'hey. i have a week off. can i come visit?' the baron and the husband were - of course! - delighted that the brother chose to spend his free week with them... he is, after all, a super easy house guest, requiring essentially no entertaining; more often than not, they'd find him in the sun room, deep into his book.

the baron became quite accustomed to having the brother there, seeing him at lunch and cooking for three at dinner. he is, as ever, good company, sober and silly and sentimental and spiritual all wrapped up into one really tall package. the only drawback to having him there came when he and the husband would jointly decide to rebuff the baron's requests. her personality, though forceful, is not enough to overcome the likes of this (their response to her request to take a picture of the two of them):

the husband: really?
the brother: come on, the baron, do we have to?
the husband: he's too tall. i'll have to stand on a stump...
the brother: hey, you know what we should do? we should do it like in 'lord of the rings', like gandalf and frodo!

the brother: i'll stand back here...
the husband: ok.

the brother: lemme see that picture.
the husband: that is great!
the brother: that's so good! it's exactly right!
(hearty laughs all around. the baron did not participate, but could be heard to mutter, 'stupid'.)

the week's visit passed too quickly, as all good things do, and the brother left last thursday. *sniff, sniff.

the sun will come out

2009-06-19T09:29:00.006-04:00

today the baron is thinking of her second job - a college one - at a sandwich shop in her home town, conveniently located right across the street from her undergraduate institution. it was a super set-up for her: class in the morning, then over to the sandwich shop by noon to work four or 8 hours, then home. or, sandwich shop at 7am until noon, then over to class. (though, really, it was usually the first scenario; as the baron figured out quite quickly that the smell of onions had real staying power so she always aimed to work AFTER school.) and, by the way? home was a fast 7 minutes from campus AND work.

the baron spent over two years at this sandwich shop, having been shepherded in by her good friend xtina. it was a long two years: the job lost its lustre pretty quickly (having mostly to do with the owner and his special brand of douchebaggery, and NOT AT ALL having to do with the daily promise of free sandwiches, snapples, sodas, macaroni salad and cookies; also, yes, the baron gained weight while working there), but the baron and xtina did the best they could to keep themselves entertained.

earlier this week, the baron posted something about june gloom, and about how it's been raining in maryland for the past several weeks. this morning - for a change - it was actually quite sunny out. and. this made the baron VERY HAPPY.

so happy that, when she pulled back the bedroom draperies, her first thought was this scrap of lyric: "the sun will come out... pastrami!" sung, of course, to the tune of "the sun will come out tomorrow" from 'annie'.

in the name of entertainment, the baron and xtina used to sing this song at the sandwich shop; they would substitute the word 'pastrami' for 'tomorrow' and you know what, reader? the baron now thinks that their creative edits IMPROVED the song. and what else? they might actually have sung this song TO PASTRAMIS, either whole hunks of meat or sanwiches.

anyway.

happy friday, reader.

june gloom

2009-06-17T10:18:00.005-04:00

reader, you might not know about june gloom (except for you three: carlos, laura and xtina), but it's a very real occurrence in california. in late spring and early summer, the days begin with heavy cloud coverage and maybe a little drizzle, and end with weak sunshine.

the husband, when he was just the boyfriend, wrote a heavily illustrated story for the baron wherein he referred to her as heliotropic. she laughed at his phrasing then, but in the years since (and especially lately, since her part of maryland has had rain and cloudy skies for the better part of 6 weeks) she's come to think it might be true. the cloudiness casts a grey dinge over everything, including the baron. she's lethargic, reader, and can't get out of it.

she can't even muster anything interesting to write for you. so, she's pawning you off on more established and talented writers at:

homeland security today (note that handsome devil on page 46)

the new york times

slate

salon

new bed

2009-06-10T07:30:00.008-04:00

a couple of weeks ago, baron von dachshund was taken ill. the sole symptom of his illness was vomit, left in little piles all over the house as delightful surprises for his parents to discover. in some cases, the scene read thusly: it seemed that he had been sleeping, then awoke, then harnessed enough energy only to move his head slightly to the side to throw up. in the bed he was sleeping in. (one of the consequences of his one symptom? a bath.)

he did this - turn his head slightly and throw up in bed - twice, in two different beds. (this may concern you, reader, you may be thinking, 'oh no! the dogs' beds! where will they sleep?' but realize this: the baron and the husband, keepers of four dogs, own 8 dog beds. a little excessive, no?) one of the beds was a reduced-for-quick-sale after christmas bargain from two years ago; it was a small, red doughnut bed with a candy cane and a holly on it. the second besmirched bed was much more expensive and of much nicer quality. the first, the baron and the husband deemed disposable; the second, the baron rinsed in the laundry sink (to get the chunks off), then sent through the wash twice - once as it was, then once inside out, just to be safe.

the red doughnut bed had fit perfectly into a spot in the dining room (because EVERYONE has a dog bed in the DINING ROOM, don't they? it goes side board, dining room table, dog bed, right?), between a credenza and the closet, a spot that gets very, very warm in the winter (because one of the furnaces main pipes runs through that part of the wall, parallel with the closet). conversely, because the dining room receives no direct sunlight during the day, it tends to be among the coolest rooms in the house. in short, from the dogs' perspective, it's the perfect room for sleeping or chewing the random sock. and the spot near the closet is perfectly sized for either of the two black dogs.

because of this, the baron felt compelled to make a new dog bed.

conveniently, she had recently replaced the mattress pad for her bed (it was not deep enough for the mattress).

so.

the baron folded the mattress pad up into a square that fit snugly between the closet and the credenza, the sewed it closed. then, she used heavy duty canvas to make the cover. she's quite pleased with her project: the dogs' have a new bed, she didn't have to discard the old mattress pad, and she was able to use fabric she already owned. everyone wins!

below, see baron on the new bed.

today

2009-06-09T08:27:00.005-04:00

last week, the husband went to las vegas for a conference and brought back a cold. and gave it to his wife.

today, the baron is not feeling very well.

lat night, the baron thought that andrew bird and andrew w.k. were the same person. last night, the baron thought that andrew w.k. and russell brand were the same person. last night, the baron thought that andrew bird and russell brand were, essentially, interchangeable.

today, the baron knows that russell brand is english, and was in this movie.

today, the baron knows that andrew bird is american, and is a most excellent whistler.

today, the baron remains unsure of andrew w.k.

last weekend, the baron was marvelling at how high her potato plants have grown.

today, the baron is lamenting the HARD, HEAVY, ANGRY rain that tumbled those potato plants right over.

last week, the baron was thinking that june was just busy enough, what with professional and personal committments.

today, the baron is thinking that she had better clean the house, since the brother will be here on thursday.

right now, the baron is wishing that chamomile tea was a little gentler on her stomach.

she is thinking, keep it down. keep it down.

today promises to be a super GREAT day.

from the yard in may

2009-06-03T06:57:00.002-04:00

reader, you may remember - from about this time last year - that the baron and the husband are big BIG fans of working and playing in the garden. in previous years, they pulled out vegetable garden seeds and flats, to start seedlings inside well before the last frost date. this year, however, they were late seemed to make a tacit agreement NOT to do things that way. instead, around the last week of april, after the husband and built three very sturdy vegetable boxes, they direct sowed their vegetable seeds into the soil. below, the cucumber is making its way - so slowly - toward a chicken wire support structure.

besides the cucumber (of which they planted two varieties), the baron and the husband also planted: tomatoes (garden peach, cherry, black krim, pineapple, and mr. stripey (reader, how could the baron pass up a tomato called MR. STRIPEY!?!)); artichokes; asparagus; beans; watermelon; brussels sprouts; okra; two varieties of lettuce; mustard greens; and edamame. if everything goes to plan (though, really, how often does that happen?), the baron and the husband will be rich will the fruits (and vegetables) of their labors.

the baron's favorite type of plants are the ones that do something for her; her feeling is that - after putting time and work and water into something - there should be some kind of reward. in this way, the vegetable garden suits her well.

however.

there are some things in her yard that are even better. they are the fruit bearing plants that REQUIRE ALMOST NO WORK on the part of the baron.

for instance:

these blueberries - the baron has 6 plants of three different varieties - require nothing from her but mulch in the fall and water in the spring. and you know what, reader? if it rains, she doesn't even bother to water them.

also, here is a three year old blackberry bush, limbs heavy with fruit. and, it requires nothing of her. so far, the squirrels have not yet discovered it...

the dwarf peach tree, also very low maintenance. this year, the third that the tree has been in the ground, the baron and the husband decided to protect is from the yard's wildlife with netting. so far, no peaches have been ceded to squirrels.

a strawberry plant, in a strawberry pot, that miraculously survived winter and came back this spring. so far, it seems to require nothing but water and has so far yielded 3 tiny red berries... and below, it looks like 3 more will soon be ready for harvest!

no one wields a pair of garden clippers like the husband.

china from japan

2009-06-01T06:54:00.007-04:00

reader, a few of you (the facebook ones) may know that the husband spent some time in japan when he was very, very young. while there, the husband's mother purchased this set of china, selected because it nicely matched the furniture in their on-base home.

since then, the husband's family has moved many times, and his siblings? they've moved even more. the husband's mother, an equitable soul if ever there was one, saved these dishes, making a mental note of this one more thing to be distributed to her children (of which there are 6, did the baron mention?). one of the husband's siblings received the family silverware, a sister received yet another set of china... and on and on.

it just so happens, it luckily happens, that the baron loves these dishes. they're pretty and a little '70s cheesy (which the baron is choosing to recognize as whimsy).

the set was originally service for 12 ('FOR 12!!' said the baron, before realizing that - with 8 proper family members - 12 settings were needed for company) and - sadly - not all have made it. what remains are 9 dinner plates, 11 saucers for 8 coffee cups (above), a footed gravy boat, a swerving dish (below), two serving platters (a larger and a smaller one), 10 soup bowls, and 9 bread and butter plates (the baron felt very fancy, counting her new bread and butter plates), a creamer, and a sugar bowl (first photo). on the whole, the set is in remarkably good shape - having survived the trip from japan to all over america, and the hands of 6 children to boot.

when they were first married, and their friends and family came to celebrate, the baron and the husband remained adamantly unregistered and requested no gifts. they might even have said, 'china? pshaw!!' but this? these dishes? the baron, usually hard-hearted and unsentimental, is actually quite touched to have a piece of the husband's youth brought, intact, into their lives. new traditions and all that.

the baron and the husband aren't the only ones calling it rooster sauce

2009-05-20T06:58:00.004-04:00

reader, you may know that the baron is one-half chinese, having inherited her relative lack of body hair and sallow winter-time skin from the mother (math skills as yet to be developed). in her youth - her extreme youth - she never gave her ancestry much thought, except that her house (and that of her grandmother's, and of her aunts') smelled strongly of cooked onions and canola oil and spices, and recently boiled rice; these odors were absent in the homes of her friends. when she was slightly older (having moved from the protective smallness of private school to the jarring public school landscape of junior high), her dark hair and slightly slanted eyes *really* bothered her, what with all her friends being blonde, petite, and destined for cheerleading greatness. the baron - tall and skinny and dark complected - felt her difference acutely.

those days are long past, reader. the baron has since come to appreciate herself: dark hair is no better or worse than blonde hair, the swim team is just as worthwhile as the cheerleading squad, and it turns out everyone wants to be tall and skinny! yay!

and, all those cooking smells, the ones that permeated her childhood home? the ones that permeate her memories still? well, those are coming around too: see this article in today's new york times.

a tale of two matheys

2009-05-15T22:36:00.003-04:00

reader, you may recall that the baron recently went home for a week.
while there, her mother (from now on, 'the mother') tried to get a photo of the baron and jonathan.
the mother's results were not entirely successful... neither child really wanted to participate in the picture-taking, and the mother couldn't really work out the camera's finer points (like auto-focus).

see the fruits of her labor, below.

who's that handsome devil?

2009-05-15T14:45:00.007-04:00

reader, if you have a few minutes, check out this video at, ahem, foxnews.com.

um.

reader, you must believe that the baron would never refer you to fox news unless the circumstances were highly unusual... and in this case, they are.

see, the baron knows neela who is married to holter who is the co-host of a show called 'wasted'. for reasons that remain unclear to the baron, holter made an appearance on everyone's favorite 'fair and balanced' news station to show the fox viewership how to make a meal for their dogs at home. this premise - the making of 'dog food' at home - is an excellent one, though it is lost on the hosts on-screen there with holter who evince surprise that ANYONE WOULD MAKE FOOD FOR A DOG!

the baron is fairly certain that the not-so-tiny particles of evil that swirl around the fox and friends studio did not permeate the dogs' meal. this must mean, too, that those particles didn't get on holter at all; or, if they did, hopefully they came right off in the shower. also, those particles probably will not travel from the fox news web site to your computer and into your brain, so. there's that.

ahem. in any case, the baron knows neela and has come to know holter, and his appearance on a nationally televised cable news show seems like something worth sharing with you. see how that's all highly unusual?

(the baron would like to point out that holter is great and engaging in this clip, but the real stars of the show are riley and remy.)