BertVille

Living in California is Totally Sweet

2009-10-12T08:11:00.001-07:00

Leaving Yosemite
Originally uploaded by sprbert

This is my second attempt at blogging a photo through Flickr. The first time, the photo was way too big. I hope it works. I might just dislike that it's not the same as my other posts and delete it due to my OCD need for symmetry. If you're reading this now, I've overcome my issues, for the time being.

So, the blog post is really more of a test than anything else, but I do want to mention that I'm so glad to be living in California. I generally love the weather, the proximity to wonderful state and national parks, and the laid back attitude. But, mostly, today I'm noticing that it snowed in my native Midwest, and I'm planning to take a little stroll in Golden Gate Park to celebrate not having to wear moon boots ever again.

I'm Not Officially Diagnosed

2009-10-09T12:44:00.000-07:00

But, I'm sure I have a diagnosable anxiety disorder. Doing what I do for a living, I can spot that kind of thing a mile away.

First, a warning. If you a) are currently pregnant or b) don't want to hear about tragedy in general, you might want to stop reading this post now.

In my last entry, I alluded to the fact that I'm fearful about certain aspects of this baby-having business. First, there's the whole unknown factor. But, truthfully, I'm not that concerned about how it will all unfold. I'm trying not to hang on tightly to any one scenario of birthing my baby. Back when I was in the Peace Corps, I became good at having few expectations in a situation. You want to take a bus to the capital? Be prepared to wait for six hours because the bus driver's neighbor let his goats get out of their cage earlier that day, and the driver had to help corral them before leaving town. Life happens. I waited. After a while, I learned to expect and enjoy life's little detours.

Second on the list of often quoted fears about birth is the anticipated pain. Here's the thing about pain, though... humans don't remember it very well. I have no concept of how much pain is a lot of pain, and therefore, I'll save that particular fear for the moment in which I'm screaming for an epidural. No, seriously, though, I do expect it to be painful. It's supposed to hurt to shove a human being out of your guts. I can't say I'm prepared for the experience, what with never having experienced it before, but I'm optimistic that I can handle it however I choose to manage it. And I trust in my husband to know my quirks and to manage the hospital staff, as needed.

So, that leaves the Big Third Fear. This is the one that wakes me up at 2:00AM. It's the one that gives me those photo flashback moments that terrify and paralyze me. It's something I wish I didn't know. Something I wish I had never experienced, but that made me more appreciative of life, overall. And I have no idea how to manage the anxiety and intrusive thoughts it gives me during these last weeks of pregnancy.

Back when I was in high school, I got hooked on Vietnam movies, both fiction and documentary. There was something about the tragedy that spoke to my deepest heart and made me so intensely sad. I had never experienced death in my life, personally, and the thought of so many families losing someone they loved took my breath away. And it became an obsession of sorts... focusing on other people's suffering. Just wishing there was something I could do to make the sadness stop for everyone involved. It just occurred to me that maybe that's partly why I have the job that I do now.

In any case, I eventually moved out of that phase and into my Save the World phase, which was made up of much of the same fascinations with hardships of others. It's been a long time since I felt that deeply for someone else's pain. I have training now to turn off that kind of personal involvement and emotion. And usually, it works for me. Most of the time.

As I near my due date, I feel my baby boy wiggle in my belly, and I fall more and more in love with him and the idea of holding him and watching him grow. It is now that I find myself mired in a memory of tragedy that refuses to be shut off.

In early 2006, my friends awaited the birth of their much-longed-for baby girl. We threw a baby shower and the atmosphere was all excitement and celebration. Exactly one week later, I got an early morning call on my way to the gym. She had had the baby, there was some distress, but things were being managed. Several minutes later, I received another call. The long-awaited baby girl had passed away just hours after being born. There had been no indication of any problems, and everyone was in shock.

I turned the car around and headed to the hospital. Once there, I stood awkwardly in the labor and delivery room with my friends and their baby who would never grow up. I was silent as I stared at her. A dead baby. Nobody knew why; it just was. And here are the memories burned into my mind... mother holding infant and sobbing as though her own life would end, father crying while talking to relatives on the phone during what should be a joyful moment, the wrong-ness of how still she lay, those little toes and the tiny pink hat they had put on her head. The images haunt me as I get close to giving birth to my own baby at the very same hospital.

Those next months were heart-wrenching, and I was very sad for my friends, during that time. But now, feeling my own baby inside me, and knowing that my friend must have felt similar wiggles and kicks, and had such love and expectations for her own baby... it leaves me stunned into renewed sadness for all of them.

And there is no erasing that experience... the knowledge that, even though all the baby books say, "No matter what type of birth experience you have, you can be sure you'll be taking home a wonderful new addition to your family," it just might not happen. I find myself wandering around the house, imagining my friends coming in and taking down the baby gear we've been excitedly setting up... so that we don't have to endure doing that ourselves.

And I catch myself doing this. This is the diagnosable part. I know that odds are in our favor. But, I'm feeling superstitious and scared... and I just want my baby to be healthy and okay. I want to bring him home with his little sleeper and hat and carseat and blanket. And I want to snuggle him and feed him and watch him grow.

There's so much in me for him. I can't bear to imagine an alternate scenario... and yet, some days, it's on an endless loop in my head, which I can't seem to control.

Contraction Jackson

2009-10-08T17:48:00.000-07:00

I've had the Conjunction Junction School House Rock song stuck in my head for several days now. Mostly because whenever I have a lot of Braxton-Hicks contractions in a row, I start singing, "Contraction Jackson, what's your faction?" I know it makes no sense, but it's stuck there, so I go with it.

I've been having a lot of contractions every afternoon for about a week. Yesterday, I started having them pretty much all day long, about 3-10 minutes apart. Today, they hurt a little more. And the poor Baby is in there all intermittently wiggling around and scared into stillness. What the heck? Go Time already? I was just getting the hang of these hiccups.

My last day of work is supposed to be October 16, but we'll see if I make it that long. I've been on my rear end at home since 11:30 this morning, when I returned after a failed attempt to go to work with every-3-minute contractions. Lesson learned.

I'm hoping this all just means I'll have a really strong uterus when the time comes.

I'm getting all excited to meet him. And I'm a bit fearful about the whole baby-having experience for several reasons that I'll go into in another blog entry. It's a little too much emotional stuff for this particular time of day.

Unexpected Happiness

2009-08-31T20:45:00.000-07:00

Today, we had a small scare. We ended up at my OB's office, and were sent for a third trimester ultrasound to check on the placenta. Apparently, everything looked okay. And, as a bonus, we got this neato 3D photo of Baby!

My fetus already has his daddy's nose!

Holy Freakin' Crap

2009-08-29T19:33:00.000-07:00

I cannot believe this is my body. I feel the same inside! Except when the little one kicks me. Then, I feel all happy and silly inside in a way I've never felt before.

My Issues

2009-08-23T16:38:00.000-07:00

(As a note: This is mostly for my own emotional masturbation, and I do understand that it's likely very, very boring to most. Please feel free to skip this entry, if you can't stand to hear people whine.)

Despite what a do for a living, I have plenty of my own deep seated issues. Today, two major ones are in play... and I am about to sound like a whiny pre-teen in front of the whole internet.

Today, I had brunch with a friend who is also pregnant. And, who also reads this blog. So, Dear S, please know that all of the following Emotional Garbage I am about to express has only entirely to do with me and my above mentioned issues. You are radiant and wonderful and a joy to spend time with. I honestly really value that we're having this experience together. In addition to the sheer neato-ness of having such a good friend so close and going through similar feelings, it clearly also helps me (and the internet) evaluate my hang ups.

I have two major hang ups (though if you ask my husband, he might come up with a few more). In my opinion, my hang ups are these: 1) anything to do with my looks, 2) anything to do with not being capable or strong. Both were triggered by my outing today.

First, a detailed description of my issues because you can't fight an enemy you can't see.

Hang Up #1: My Looks
Let's face it, in a society where Angelina can be pregnant and only gain about 10 pounds while still wearing fabulous designer dresses to the Academy Awards... and people thinks that's a good thing, instead of asking why she would put her baby in danger like that... well, how am I supposed to feel, really? But, this issue is much deeper than just hormones or pregnancy. This is something I've had my whole life. Am I thin enough? Am I cute enough? Do the boys like me? If they don't, what can I do to make myself prettier? (Not smarter, mind you... prettier.) It sounds so silly, and when I step back and pretend I'm listening to someone else, I seriously want to slap me across the face and tell myself to get over it. But... well, it's just not that easy.

I've examined this and, I assume because it's too close to home, I just can't figure out what the heck is the road block in getting over this particular issue. I mean, I certainly value my intelligence, my sense of humor, my other talents. Thing is, I don't value them as much as I imagine other people value my looks. Oh dear god, now I sound like every other woman I've ever heard complain about this. And it's painful... being in this place where I know I'm feeling something totally irrational that I completely don't respect or ascribe to in theory. And yet... here I am.

Sure, I wish I had been brought up to believe that my value is deeper than my physical appearance. And, to give my parents credit, they did try. The thing is, who would you believe? Fashion challenged old(er) people or Entertainment Tonight and Seventeen Magazine? I believe the messages that we give to girls in our society are reprehensible, and frankly, I'm relieved to be having a boy (which comes with separate issues, but ones with which I feel more capable of dealing logically.)

Hang Up #2: My Ability and Strength
Having been born with my foot tangled in my own umbilical cord and, therefore, bent the wrong way, I feel like I was often given the message that I wasn't strong enough or capable of doing the things other kids did. Perhaps, it was just implied; I know children pick up on their surroundings. But, I totally bought this line of thinking, and despite the fact that my foot was totally fixed by the age of three, I remember knowing deep within myself, that I absolutely could not become a track star, a figure skater, or a professional dancer. I was incapable of being any type of athlete. Too weak, too different, too broken because of my foot. I don't think anyone ever said, "You can't do that." I just knew it was true.

Years later, after moving to the Bay Area, I became quite a hot commodity in the swing dance scene, much to my surprise. I could dance, and out here, nobody knew my secret... that I was truly incapable of greatness because of my foot. I had fooled everyone.

Around the same time, I had a friend who wanted to take me rock climbing. I had been lifting some weights to avoid a family legacy of osteoporosis, and thought climbing sounded like a fun way to build muscles. I was terrified and not at all graceful, when I started out. And then, suddenly, after months of attempting to climb more difficult grades, something clicked and I got it. I mean I really got it. And I was, objectively, measurably good at it!

During that period of time, I complained to my chiropractor that I seemed to always have some pain or another I needed him to fix. And he said the nicest thing I had ever heard to that day, "Well, that's pretty normal. You're an athlete." An athlete! Damn straight.

So, I have a knee jerk reaction (ask my husband and his sore shins about it) when someone even sort of, kind of, almost implies that I can't do something. Or, when I imagine it's true in my own twisted head space.

So then, the reason these issues were invoked by the power of this casual outing with my friend? You see, my friend is in her 17th week of pregnancy. She's lovely and sweet and not at all sickened by the smell of coffee (which I still am sometimes). She's also only gained about 3-5 pounds, so far, is wearing all of her pregnancy clothes, and looks fantastic. And I remember that at 17 weeks, I had gained over 20 pounds already and was wearing maternity pants. And, people at work kept telling me how huge I was. (Don't ever tell a pregnant woman she looks huge. It's just not nice. She knows it, already.)

I'm pretty sure the giant weight gain was mostly because I was so totally sick that I dropped going to the gym (a before pregnancy daily routine) and started eating only graham crackers or anything else that would make me feel like I didn't want to hurl 24/7. (Joke's on me, since I sort of still feel like tossing my cookies much of the time.)

So you see... now, at nearly 30 weeks pregnant, I have gained a total of 37 pounds, already over the upper end of "normal" on the weight continuum. And I still have 10 weeks to go to reach full term. At a pound more per week, that puts me solidly in the "holy crap what have I done to my body" category. I'm already disgusted by my own thighs and the amount of cellulite that's hitched a ride on my once-muscular ass. And then, I'm disgusted at my attitude because, honestly, a healthy baby is way more important to me than the shape of my ass. And yet, those thoughts tumble around in my possibly poisoned by People Magazine mind.

Which leads me to being capable. No matter how silly it sounds when I say it out loud to my husband or to you, internet, I can't help but feel as though I'm failing at pregnancy. Like I'm doing it all wrong. I'm constantly sick, I gained too much weight, and I never had the second trimester honeymoon that everyone talks about. And though I know everyone's pregnancy is different, I feel like I can't, and I hate that word.

So, thank you, internet. I do feel better having taken a better look at all that. And thank you, S, for facilitating my introspection. Everyone should look inside at the weirdness they carry around, once in a while.

Eggsperiment

2009-08-21T16:54:00.000-07:00

Today, I brought a hardboiled egg with me to work. When I went to get it from the fridge, it had one single impact point on it, which had cracked in a circular fashion.

For some reason, this reminded me of a task we did in 10th grade health class. All of students were paired into heterosexual couple partnerships (I now wonder which of my classmates felt judged or different because of that) and given an egg. Not hardboiled, though. A raw egg. (This likely sounds familiar to many of you, as I think it's a pretty well practiced health class lesson in the USA.) Each couple was told that they were the "parents" of this egg, and needed to protect it for one week. If the egg broke, both members of the partnership failed the assignment.

Each team was to set up an elaborate schedule of which partner would take care of the egg during which hours. Who took it home at night, who brought it to gym class, when the handoff would occur, and in which hallway. Perhaps, to an adult, this seems like a good way to teach responsibility to a teenager during the sex education portion of health class. Looking back, I see some flaws.

Flaw #1: First, I didn't choose this partner as I would choose someone with whom I would be caring for a baby. I don't remember who my partner was, but I remember being dismayed when his name was read off. Also, it's incredibly awkward as a 15 year old to be put into a partnership with a boy in your class. A lot of "ooooo"s and "ooohhhhh"s were heard during the assigning. And, at 15, I was not one of the girls that the boys were secretly crossing their fingers about, and I was painfully aware.

Flaw #2: Most of the boys in the class were either 14 or 15 years old. Seriously, make a schedule of who takes care of a raw egg that we're pretending is a baby? That sounds like a sissy game of playing house, to me. The boys were much more interested in the making of the egg baby than the possibility of caring for it. I have to imagine that the lesson was totally lost on most, if not all, of them. And, I have to imagine, on some of the girls, as well, as proven by the fact that several of them ended up going to a continuation school due to "unfortunate circumstances".

Flaw #3: The assignment, perhaps because of the teenage boys' involvement, really became "who can design the most impact proof encasement for the egg". This, in turn, led to competitions after lunch where the boys (generally unannounced to the girl in the partnership) would take the eggs out to the back stairwell at the school (the highest spot possible from which to test an egg's "impact proof" container) and drop the styrofoam or bubble wrap or cardboard container containing the hapless egg... usually to its certain demise. And, therefore, failing both themselves and their blissfully unaware partners.

This last one I only know about because my partner, What's His Name, did exactly that.

And, I find myself, 20 years after 10th grade health class, thanking my lucky stars that I did not marry that boy... mostly because he's probably working at McDonald's because goodness knows, he made a sucky engineer.

Adventures In Pregnant Land

2009-08-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

I never really want to call my doctor when I have questions or concerns... even seemingly important concerns. I feel like a hypochondriac. Being that this is the first time I've been pregnant, I never quite know what's normal and what's gone horribly wrong. Yesterday was a perfect example of that.

My adorable cousin and her polite boyfriend were visiting, so we took them to Napa. We had a lovely picnic in the 90+ degree heat, but I felt fine sitting on the ground in the shade of a tree. They shared a bottle of wine, and I drank my little fizzy grapefruit juice (a treat, since I generally just have water). Peachy, fabulous, superfun time!

Then, I stood up. Shazam! Knives stabbing me in the gut. What the heck was that? Wait. It's not gone. It was like someone took a 5" rusty nail and jammed it into that soft space below my sternum and jaggled it back and forth under my ribcage... for the next three hours. Well, that can't be right.

So, when we got home, I looked this strange new pain up online. Let me say right here that if I am a hypochondriac, I blame the internet. Seriously. Nobody ever just gets a little sick on the internet and all symptoms could potentially lead to death. The internet told me that any upper abdomen pain could be a sign of preeclampsia. I had no other symptoms, though, so I wrote that one off. (Pats self on back for not overreacting.) The other thing it said about abdominal pain was that if it doesn't get better, to seek medical treatment immediately. Damnit.

We called the on-call nurse at my practitioner's office, who said I should get checked out. Twenty-five minutes later, I was checked in at OB emergency reception and wearing a hospital gown and a spandex girdle. They monitored the baby's heartbeat and my contractions for about 45 minutes. Apparently, the rusty nail pain I felt (it had faded significantly at that point, making me feel like even more of a hypochondriac) was not contractions because the nurse pointed out that I was having quite a few, which I didn't feel at all.

This created a new issue, now unrelated to the pain. I was having "on the borderline" too many contractions. So, the nurse unplugged the monitor, slung the cords around the back of my neck like a Versace scarf, and told me to pee in a cup. Gown a-flappin', I went into the bathroom to comply. Peeing in a cup while your stomach hurts and your wrapped in electrical cords and stuffed into an elastic girdle is much more difficult than you might imagine. I'll spare you the details.

And the verdict? I was dehydrated, causing too many contractions. Cervix? Happily, still closed. Pain? No idea. Likely, it was what I first assumed before the internet got me all screwed up. My abdominal muscles just under my ribs are stretching like a hot air balloon to accommodate baby. Nobody ever mentioned this to me. There's all this stuff online and in friends' stories regarding "round ligament pain", but that's generally low in the abdomen.

Well, now I know... and I'm glad because the rusty nail is back today.

The good news is, it wasn't an unpleasant experience (except for the cervix check, which is never a cause for celebration). Two great things came out of it.

1) We got a little preview of what it will be like in a few months to show up when we're actually having a baby. The nurse was nice, the doctor was fast to arrive, and the facilities are clean and quiet.

2) While on the fetal monitor, the baby got the hiccups, which was adorable because he would bump the monitor with his little spasms, making it sound like he was testing a microphone at a party. Without hiccups: thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-thumpa. With hiccups: thumpa-thumpa-TAP-thumpa-thumpa-TAP-thumpa-thumpa-TAP.

3) (Okay, there are three things.) Without me even knowing, Bryan had packed me extra socks, underwear, and a t-shirt... just in case, reminding me that I have the best one and he loves me. *swoon*

What Did I Ever Do To You?

2009-08-06T12:02:00.000-07:00

Now, perhaps, it's the pregnancy hormones, but I feel totally offended by the comments made on this page of The San Francisco Chronicle's site, sfgate.com.

I'm speechless at the sheer hatred, animosity, and sometimes violence, being expressed toward these pregnant women and they're lovely bellies! Where does something like that come from? Seriously, how do you dis a pregnant woman for putting a photo of her beautiful, life-creating form in a gallery dedicated to said photos? And, why are those people looking at that gallery if they find such topics so disgusting? Furthermore, why doesn't The Chronicle do anything about the inappropriate comments?

To me, these negative, hate-spreading, ignorant people embody all that is wrong with our country. Pregnant bellies as "target practice"? Target practice?! Not to mention the seeming consensus that photos of pregnant women are lewd and should only be displayed in private albums, if at all. Closed-minded, puritanical prudes.

I'm ready to move. I'll tell you that, right now.

Painting Baby's Room - Part II

2009-07-19T16:14:00.000-07:00

Today, we put up some foam circles that Bryan painted. They're our baby's decorations!

Painting Baby's Room - Part I

2009-07-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, Bryan painted the baby's room (formerly, his office).

Before

During

After

We tried going with no-VOC emissions paint, but unfortunately, to cover that dark orange, we needed a good primer. So far, no-VOC primers are only made to go directly onto drywall. So, listen up natural paint companies, I have a market for you. We did manage to get a paint/primer in one combo thing, which worked both economically and labor-wise (especially important since the VOCs kept me out of the room).

Ultrasound Tells All

2009-06-16T18:13:00.000-07:00

I was just checking out our recent ultrasound photos again, and came to a shocking conclusion. I'm pretty sure our baby is a superhero.

Nearly Halfway

2009-06-13T13:48:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm finding myself nearly halfway done with this pregnancy before I even really came to terms with the fact that I'm actually making a person. Here's the history, so far.

Week 1: I hope I'm pregnant.

Week 2: Maybe I'm not pregnant. Let's go wine tasting and get all tipsy!

Week 3: What's that cramping feeling? I'm tired and grouchy. I guess my period is coming again this month.

Week 4: Wait. What's this? Positive pregnancy test? I'm pregnant!

Week 5: No symptoms so far. And my boobs look great! Being pregnant is easy!

Week 6: Bleh. Nothing sounds good. I feel a little queasy.

Week 7-12: Please don't even mention food again and bring me my bucket. I'll be napping if you need me.

Week 8: Confirmed and with a heartbeat!

Week 13: Holy crap! That's what's going on in there?! And this was on my birthday. What a wonderful gift to see the little person wiggling in there!

Week 14: Isn't this morning (all the time) sickness supposed to let up? Maybe I should stop taking this supplemental iron? Could it be making me sick?

Week 15: Bryan's sister visited! Super fun, but I was tired and out of shape from not going to the gym for nearly three months. Some short walks around the neighborhood and through the park, but nothing like what I was used to before this whole adventure.

Week 16: We went to Seattle! I sure did feel tired while we're at the Folk Festival. I had to go home early and lie around on the couch napping and drinking a lot of water. I'm finding out all sorts of interesting things about what my body now needs.

Week 17: Was that movement? Maybe? Not sure. Hm... jury's out. My OB said I've gained 20 pounds! Some of that must be my heavy lunch! No?

Week 18: Definite movement every few days! Little flicks under my bellybutton. And more so if I drink some juice and hold really still. Baby loves sugar. Bryan is excited to be able to feel the baby in the future. And I'm back to the gym. Thank goodness. Feeling better already about the exercise I'm getting.

Week 19: Last ultrasound, unless my provider has some more concerns. A boy is confirmed! I know because I saw the male parts on the screen. The genetic testing all looks great. Looks like the little one is in the 80+ percentile on most measurements... including his head. Ouch.

Here's his little smiling face at week 19.

The Miracle of Life

2009-04-29T17:14:00.001-07:00

I now understand why they call it that. In just five weeks, the small person in my guts has gone from this:
8 weeks

to this:
13 weeks

It's mind blowing! And, also gives me a concrete reason to continue to choke down food, despite the fact that I'm still feeling nauseous at 13 weeks and 1 day pregnant. The little one is worth it.

BorderCam "Altruism"

2009-03-13T10:29:00.001-07:00

My brother just sent me a link to this article.

I'm baffled and saddened that the people in this story think they're doing something "altruistic," a word used by one of the interviewees. His definition of the word is sorely out of line with my idea of what altruism means.

I think the part that most makes me slap my forehead in dismay is this:
"Abernethy said he will continue to watch the cameras because he feels like he's part of an altruistic group of volunteers. Friends tease him about watching the site, he said. But he sees it as no worse than any other form of quick entertainment -- and maybe he can be of some help in the process. 'It's no different than watching Everybody Loves Raymond reruns," he said. "It's just something to do.'""

Quick entertainment? It seems these bordercam watchers have lost sight of the fact that the people crossing the border are... well, people. I hardly agree that watching Everybody Loves Raymond reruns is as benign as changing the course of someone's life. A life that might be deeply difficult due to issues of poverty, political problems, and disease. My feeling is that the bordercam watchers haven't taken the time to understand the issues on the other side of the fence.

That said, I'm not all for a completely open door policy because a system like that would likely overtax resources which we are already struggling to provide for some US citizens. However, I don't think watching for "the bad guys" (who could very well be a poor woman with her three young children) crossing the border is really something to be proud of.

Here are my suggestions to those bordercam people who want to help out. Some "altruistic" ideas, if you will. A good first step would be lobbying for our leaders to assist the Mexican government in building a more effective infrastructure, therefore, diminishing or even eliminating the causes of illegal immigration. Show that you believe in a policy that will help would-be immigrants make a living wage, live in healthy surroundings, and have a fair shake at building a future in their own country. We do that in countries where we want something they have. Why not for our own neighbors?

Also, for people like Abernethy, in the story, I have an even better idea. Rather than watching Everybody Loves BorderCam, go to an actual country from which the US receives a large amount of immigrants. Experience life the way its people do. Learn to really appreciate what it is that these people are seeking and why. Give yourself the opportunity to remember how wonderful it was to be able to rely upon clean water from the tap in your US home, around the clock every day. Then, help someone in that other country to live a healthier, more satisfying life. That Mr. Abernethy, is something in which to have pride.

And just to note, I also think we should continue providing amnesty for those who need it. It's a belief on which we built the country originally. And Mr. Abernethy ought to be a little less short sighted when looking at himself. Unless he's a Native American, his people once crossed our border looking for a better life, too.

Anniversaries and Overhauls

2009-03-09T12:46:00.000-07:00

Two stories in today's news caught my eye. The first is a local piece about an overhaul of one of the giant downtown mall/theater complexes, The Metreon.

When I moved to San Francisco in early 2000, the Metreon had just been built. It was big and dark and full of neon guts. The Metreon was built by Sony, who seemed to want to capitalize on all of the Internet Millionaire Buzz that was happening around the Bay Area. High tech, high prices, high energy.

Cut to 2009. With Bay Area housing prices stalled at best, falling in most places, and many people losing their jobs, the Metreon has become a monolithic eyesore, a memory of, not so much a better time, but a more self-absorbed one.

The article talks about the Westfield Group's recent purchase and planned remodel of the building. While I don't advocate spending on unnecessary projects during tough times, the Westfield people seem to be doing okay... financially speaking. Therefore, I'm all for the upgrade! More open spaces, more light, more community area for lounging and connecting to friends.

The reason this story really hit home, though, was because I remember when The Metreon was the place to be, all new and shiny. Thing is, I never really saw the draw. I didn't like the neon or the darkness, especially since Yerba Buena park was right there. It always seemed a bit of a sin against nature to close the people off from the sunlight into a dark, albeit technologically neat, cave. So, a decade later, they will start construction on The Metreon as I envisioned it. I should really write these things down when I think of them.

The second story is that of the Barbie doll's 50th anniversary. There are many new articles online about Barbie's 50th birthday bash. While I did play with Barbie's as a child, and very much enjoyed the imaginative play her world helped me create, I do still see a flaw in the whole concept.

The main reason for my insistence on ruining Barbie's party is that I don't and won't ever look like Barbie. Some people go to great lengths to reinvent themselves into a living Barbie, by way of some extreme decision making (don't get my started on psychoanalyzing this one).

For myself in the matter of Media Blitz + Larger Than Average Rear End = Twelve Year Old With Battered Self-Esteem, I remember the exact moment in which I held my Barbie up while facing the mirror. We looked nothing alike. And in that moment, I had the crushing realization that my breasts, burgeoning though they were, would never look like Barbie's. At the time, it was heart-breaking. She was who I thought I would grow up to be. An all American Girl, fun-loving and successful. And, I assumed, these things were all based upon her natural, beachy good looks. (Remember, I was 12 years old; this was a logical conclusion for me.)

So, I remain torn on the celebration of an icon's 50th. She's a real bitch with a bad attitude, but I can't seem to shun her because of the fun times we shared several decades ago. A toxic friendship from my past of which I'm reminded every 10 years or so.

Recent News

2009-02-26T17:10:00.001-08:00

There's no good excuse for not having written for so long. Except that I've had nothing of real interest to say. No witty observations. No big travel stories. So, here are some recent photos, so that you know I'm still here... making an effort.

Wine Tasting Last Weekend in the Pouring Rain

Golden Gate Bridge Stop in the Pouring Rain

Visiting the Missle Museum (Bryan Looks Good in a Hardhat)

Parents' 40th Anniversary Party That We Threw

I'll see if I can come up with some other good stuff soon.

100 Places I've Been

2009-01-13T14:55:00.001-08:00

1. Amalfi, Italy
2. Amesbury, England
3. Arthurs Pass, New Zealand
4. Atlanta, GA
5. Austin, TX
6. Badlands, SD
7. Bergen, Norway
8. Birmingham, AL
9. Boulder, CO
10. Carmel, CA
11. Cheyenne, WY
12. Chicago, IL
13. Christchurch, New Zealand
14. Clearlake, CA
15. Cleveland, OH
16. Copenhagen, Denmark
17. Denver, CO
18. Depoe Bay, OR
19. Duluth, MN
20. Florence, Italy
21. Fort Collins, CO
22. Fort Lauderdale, FL
23. Gatlinburg, TN
24. Geneva, IL
25. Genoa, Italy
26. Grand Portage, MN
27. Honolulu, HI
28. Kaneohe, HI
29. Kansas City, MO
30. Kapaa, HI
31. Kekaha, HI
32. Keystone, SD
33. Kilauea, HI
34. Kissimmee, FL
35. La Fortuna, Costa Rica
36. Laie, HI
37. Lake Tahoe, CA
38. Las Vegas, NV
39. Lihue, HI
40. London, England
41. Longmont, CO
42. Los Angeles, CA
43. Lucca, Italy
44. Madison, WI
45. Malmo, Sweden
46. Mammoth Lakes, CA
47. Manuel Antonio National Park, Costa Rica
48. Memphis, TN
49. Miami, FL
50. Miami Beach, FL
51. Milan, Italy
52. Milwaukee, WI
53. Minneapolis, MN
54. Monterey, CA
55. Napa, CA
56. Naples, Italy
57. Nashville, TN
58. Nelson, New Zealand
59. New Orleans, LA
60. Nogales, Mexico
61. Orlando, FL
62. Oslo, Norway
63. Owego, NY
64. Paris, France
65. Philadelphia, PA
66. Phoenix, AZ
67. Pisa, Italy
68. Poipu, HI
69. Pompeii, Italy
70. Portofino, Italy
71. Princeville, HI
72. Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic
73. Puerto Quepos, Costa Rica
74. Punta Cana, Dominican Republic
75. Reno, NV
76. Rochester, NY
77. Rome, Italy
78. Rotorua, New Zealand
79. San Diego, CA
80. San Francisco, CA
81. San Jose, CA
82. San Jose, Costa Rica
83. San Juan, Puerto Rico
84. Santa Barbara, CA
85. Santa Monica, CA
86. Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
87. Seattle, WA
88. Sedona, AZ
89. Sonoma, CA
90. Stockholm, Sweden
91. Superior, WI
92. Tampa, FL
93. Tucson, AZ
94. Turrialba, Costa Rica
95. Waialua, HI
96. Washington DC
97. Wellington, New Zealand
98. Winnipeg, Manitoba
99. Wisconsin Dells, WI
100. Yosemite, CA

Resolutions

2009-01-01T13:19:00.000-08:00

I don't make New Year's Resolutions. They're just not for me. It implies that I'm wrong in what I have or haven't been doing - as if I am, in someway, already flawed and need to promise to fix myself.

Boo. Bad attitude right out of the gate.

Also, I think making a long list of things to accomplish each year is really just setting myself up for failure. And the list would likely get longer as time passes because the longer the list, the more remains left undone each year.

There are things I do, and would like to continue doing, which I feel are the most important things. It's a short list of five items. If I try to add more than five, it can get messy and stressful, which is exactly what I'm trying to avoid in my life by remembering to do these five things.

So, this is my resolution solution for myself.

Bert's All The Time Resolutions List
1) Be nice to people.
2) Try new things.
3) Stay active.
4) Stay informed.
5) Laugh a lot.

Easy to remember, and covers most of the ideals by which I'd like to live my life. That said, it's not rigid. Depending on the day, I might add something like "eat more ice cream".

After all, life is to be enjoyed.

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." - Annie Dillard

We've Become That Couple

2008-12-24T17:33:00.000-08:00

...who accidentally dresses alike.

I got dressed and left the house before Bryan even woke up this morning. When I got home, he was wearing this.

The Last 30 Days in Photos

2008-12-14T16:41:00.000-08:00

We had some good times this past month. Here are the highlights.

We had some friends over to play poker. Doug, the man shown here with the cards, won all of our money.

Bryan made a fantastic Thankgiving dinner. The only thing I did was steam the green beans (a little too much, actually).

We ate like kings that day.

And then, I put up our Christmas tree for this year. Last year, we bought a living tree in a pot, so as not to waste natural resources. Well, we didnt' have anywhere to plant it, so it ended up dying, anyway. This year, we will recycle our tree.

Google Totally Has My Number

2008-12-08T16:43:00.001-08:00

I judge my relative worth as a human being by the ads that Google puts in that right hand column next to my emails.

Google has software (or one really bored guy) that searches the main topics of your emails and puts appropriate ads next to them, so that you might be enticed into clicking on something of interest.

Some of my favorites from recent emails are:
* Cat Video - takes your cat on a virtual walk
* Banquet Rooms at CoCo's
* Hannah Montana's IQ = 122
* Play Fish Tycoon
* Drunken Unicorn Tickets
* Free Chuck-E-Cheese

The best is the last one. I have to wonder, is this, like, as in "Free Tibet"? Is he being held somewhere against his will? Will Amnesty International become involved?

E is for EKG

2008-11-13T08:25:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a huge pain in my ass, but has restored my faith in the health care system.. for now. Here's a breakdown.

1:00pm
I arrived at the gym and began working out on the elliptical machine. I was feeling exhilarated due to several previous days of inactivity. Then... ouch! For the past two months, I've had a bit of pain in my chest, now and then. I had been assuming it was a pulled muscle and ignoring it. Stupid muscle, messing up my workout.

2:00pm
I called the doc to make an appointment in the next few weeks, just to check in. Well, it turns out, when you say shortness of breath and chest pain, the doctor's office really moves fast! So, they fit me into a 2:30pm appointment. This is the same office that couldn't schedule me with primary care until "three months from now" on other occasions. I've learned a valuable lesson about presentation.

3:00pm
Both resident and supervisor said it was likely nothing, but wanted to be sure. They sent me in a wheelchair to the emergency room for an EKG. Apparently, the wheelchair is part of their legal requirements. I noticed that being in a wheelchair made me feel sicker than I had before. People on the sidewalk stared as the nurse bumped me across the street to the hospital.

4:00pm
Originally, I had hoped to get home in time to watch Oprah. Bummer.

5:00pm
Still waiting. I amused myself by watching shows I had downloaded to my iPod for my recent travel.

6:00pm
I was called in to an actual patient room and asked to don a stylish hospital gown. A very nice resident came in and gave me apple juice since, at that point, it had been nearly 7 hours since I'd eaten anything. They offered me graham crackers, but I declined. Surely, I would be headed home soon for some real dinner. I also got some free stickers applied to my chest and side for the EKG. They were not shaped like unicorns, however.

7:00pm
My iPod died. The sweetheart of a nurse had come in to move me to another room a while back, and I was now I was sharing a room with a woman from Tonga and her family members. They spoke in staccato speech to one another. I amused myself by imagining what they were talking about. I was given a call button (my very first ever) and left alone. I noticed I had no phone service, so the nurse assisted me in making a call to my husband from a hospital phone. I left him a message.

8:00pm
The same nurse took copious amounts of my blood for cardiac tests. faint The doctor wanted me on a heart monitor. More stickers, but still nothing with sparkles or glitter. I spent about 10 minutes amusing myself by holding my breath and trying to manipulate the numbers and spikes on the screen while I waited for my chest x-ray.

9:00pm
Time for my chest x-ray! I got wheeled into x-ray on my gurney. Again, people staring. This time because I was the best dressed in my style-y hospital robe and workout pants.

9:15pm
I left another message for my husband. I was nearly falling down out of hunger. The nurse saw me drooping and offered me the holy grail of hospital food, a sandwich bag! Hooray! I got dressed and happily ate my turkey sandwich, washing it down with a little carton of milk. Mm. It was the best sandwich in the entire world.

9:30pm
I got news that everything looked good. Seems as though it's acid reflux or some such stomach issue. I'm in tip-top cardiac shape. They didn't even follow it with the caveat "for someone your age". Discharge papers!

I guess it wasn't so bad, after all. I mean, honestly, I got to lie down and relax all afternoon and evening, which, I suppose is a bonus.

WOOO-HOOO!

2008-11-04T20:05:00.000-08:00

Halloween Party 2008

2008-10-26T20:33:00.000-07:00

We went to Bryan's work's Halloween party this weekend.