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?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
a word about pee
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
five is the right number, or, an open letter from the baron
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
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
Monday, October 26, 2009
so much pregnancy test carnage
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!
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!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
the best 4 minutes you'll spend all day
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?
um, california? do you really want maine to lead the way on this one?
Monday, October 19, 2009
the baron says...
...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.
...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
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.
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