Pwnage #4: Memorial Weekend Edition

This weekend is full of suspense.

Although work has taken up a good chunk of my Saturday, there is a chance that work might swallow up even more days!

The delightful (that's sarcasm) thing is that I just don't know. The boss said the client MAY need us to do stuff on Sunday or Monday. Keep an eye on the blackberry.

So just like that, work has managed to completely straddle my weekend with its hulking shadow. The sword of Demosthenes dangles over me precariously. At least I can hope that it will just be an empty threat. Fingers crossed.

I've had so many pwnages so close together I've become a little numb. Kind of like victims of repeated assault. You just close your eyes and passively let it happen without even struggling. What's the point?

Toddy, your wife is so fancy

This episode of Giada at Home had me laughing harder than any SNL show I've ever seen. Giada decided to make some of her husband Todd's favorite midwestern dishes from his childhood and in the process, made her in-laws look like boorish unsophisticates.


How? Before making each dish, Giada had Todd's mom explain how she made the dish for Todd as a kid. Never did such well-intentioned plans go so wrong. To wit:

Spanish Rice
Todd's Mom: Todd just loved when I made a box of rice and dumped in ketchup and hamburger meat. We called it Spanish rice.

And then, without meaning to, Giada shows what uncultured hicks they were by make HER version of "Spanish Rice" with pancetta and saffron rice (with no boxes or ketchup of course).

Orange Cake
Todd's Mom: Todd's favorite dessert growing up was orange cake. I just used a Duncan Heinz box cake mix. He loved it.

Giada continues her damning with faint commentary by baking a cake from scratch with lots of fresh orange zest.

I wonder if there's any tension in the kitchen at family get togethers? Does Giada have to keep her face from blanching when Todd's mom asks her to please pass the aerosal cheese whip? Ha ha ha ha.

No, but really, I do like Giada's cooking show and I think she's adorable. Although she looks really wierd when she flashes her toothy grin (not unlike a hot Italian Cheshire cat), it's hard not to like someone who is so obviously genuinely excited and delighted by food. I LOVE food (not love, but LOVE), so anyone who LOVES food is automatically accepted in my book.


And her baby Jade is always on the show and she's tooooooo cute!

Eat, Pray, Love, Barf

I know I'm violating the timeless tenet--don't knock it until you've tried it. But I just can't help it.

I haven't read the book so beloved by Oprah that she's done 3 shows on it, but I just can't help hating it anyway. Why am I such a hater?


Ironically, every time I see the author, Elizabeth Gilbert, I actually think she comes across as intelligent, sympathetic, articulate, and likeable. But the whole premise of the book just makes me roll my eyes.

Perhaps my dislike is more a function of how I feel toward people who are trying to find themselves through luxurious navel-gazing. There's something immensely unattractive to me about a woman who spends a lot of time and money focusing on making herself feel better when she, by many standards, already lacks for nothing...except inner peace.

It just seems like a fool's errand--to fill up your emptiness by navel-gazing intently. If you're empty inside, doesn't looking within just make you more...empty?

For Gilbert, her navel-gazing was done with a $200,000 book advance so no, it didn't make her empty. It allowed her to write her next book, to stay employed, and unexpectedly to hit the big times...a movie adaptation!

But for the rest of us, who are deluded enough to think such navel-gazing may be the answer to our lack of inner peace...well, we'll just keep on gazing into the void.

I hate snake-oil saleswomen. Always cashing in on the poverty and desperation of others while adding no value to society in the meantime.

Preggo Primer

Have you ever wondered what you can or can't say or do to a pregnant woman? I've wondered that many times myself (before I was pregnant). But now that I've been preggo for 7 solid months, perhaps I can shed a little light on this. (Of course, this is just one woman's opinion, not to be seen as a representative sample by any means. The survey pool was 1!)

FAQ (that I used to wonder about)

Is it okay to touch a preggo's belly?
Yes, absolutely. I love when people feel my belly. My only complaint is they don't REALLY feel it. It's all very light touching, as if your belly is one large, fragile eggshell. Go ahead and give it a good push. It's really really hard! Like the washboard abs I never had. Oh the irony.

Is it okay for guys to touch a preggo's belly?
Yes, but only lightly.

What about strangers?
Hell to the no. Strangers should not touch, comment, discuss, stare, etc, unless said stranger is a sweet, older lady.

Do preggos ever get tired of talking about their pregnancy and impending motherhood?
Nope. It's a vast topic of fascination that never gets old. Even now, I find myself saying (to myself) everyday, "What the heck is going on? I can't believe I'm pregnant. What the?!"

Do preggo's get annoyed if I ask when their baby is due (or what the baby's gender will be) for the 5th time?
Nope. I don't expect people to remember little details like that. I frankly don't even know what week I'm in! Unless you are a very very close person (and really, I just mean the spouse), you are allowed to forget and repeatedly ask about any baby-related thing.

Do preggo's get annoyed by unsolicited advice?
Not at all. I love unsolicited advice. How else are you suppose to find out about stuff that you're completely clueless about (which, in my case, is everything because I'm not a voracious baby-book reader and I've never been around babies).

What is a preggo feeling during the pregnancy period?
Let me break this down by tri-mesters:

First trimester--excitement, exhaustion, nausea, and fear of a miscarriage.

Second trimester--excitement, excitement, excitement.

Third trimester--excitement and terror, because your life is about to change drastically and giving birth is commonly agreed to be the most painful experience a person can endure.

And fat, you feel really really fat. You are super-grateful for any encouraging words your friends may say about your (fat) appearance.

The Stranger in Our Midst

Me: I wonder what parts of your personality the baby will have. Will it be mostly you and slightly mitigated by some of me?

Spouse: You know the kid might have a completely different personality than the both of us, right?

Me: *shocked look* What?! What do you mean?! He's our kid!

Spouse: You know genetics has nothing to do with personality right?

Me: *puzzled look*

Spouse: *patient condescending look* Like twins...they have identical genes...

Me: *lightbulb look*...but different personalities...oh yeah...

Me: *disturbed look*

A Tip Top Tam Time

The corporate law gods smiled down on me this weekend and I FINALLY got to hang out with Tammy and do what we had planned to do months ago--eat fried chicken sandwiches at Bakesale Betty's!

The first time we tried, Tammy cancelled cuz she stubbed her toe and broke it!

The second time we tried, I had to cancel to work all Saturday.

The third time we tried, I also had to cancel to work all Saturday.

The fourth time we tried, WE DID IT!!!! And here are the pics to prove it. (Fourth time's the charm?)


Mmmm...it doesn't get better than fried chicken and pickled cole slaw. Tammy came prepared with her own saracha and garlic-infused mayo (which I sadly forgot to try!)--yes, those little containers are from her, not from the restaurant! Notice also, the dee-licious, fresh-squeezed, zingy lemon slush drink.


And of course, we (okay, really, I) had to have dessert. As a preggo, dessert has become mandatory with every meal. Fresh strawberries and whipped cream on buttery, flaky shortcake. Aka, heaven.


And as if fantastic food and great company wasn't enough, I spotted something I've been coveting ever since moving to the east bay--a (really good) knitting store close to where I live!!!!!! Um, I know where I'm going to spend the majority of my maternity leave time.


We spent the whole time rubbing our oily cheeks against their super expensive cashmere and angora yarns--oohing and aahhing. Sorry knit store! But they're so soft. So so so soft. Yeah, we kinda turned into Lenny in Of Mice and Men.

Check out these beautiful natural yarns. Made my hands shake and itch for some size 13 needles.


Love these nubby textures and deep colors. (Just ignore the fact that these kinda look like dreadlocks).


And cute-as-a-button buttons!


The best part is they have classes and free drop-in help. I can FINALLY ask somehow how to finish my half-abandoned projects!

And because it was a beautiful day and we both went to Cal, we just had to take a stroll on campus. We noticed this huge billboard of Cal students and, because we're shallow lookists, spent about a half hour looking for hot guys and girls. Yeah, some things never change.


Btw, Jen, if you're reading this--Is this a pic of your sister Carol?! (The top asian chick, second to the left). But she didn't go to Cal, did she? She has a twin somewhere!

Preggo? No Preggo?

Now that I'm in my 7th month, it's harder to play my favorite guessing game, "Preggo? No Preggo?" wherein yours truly tries to dress in a way that makes others question whether she's pregnant, or just fat.

I don't know why I get perverse pleasure in hiding my belly, but it's fun to see how long I can go before my coworkers actually realize I'm pregnant.

This jacket is always good at covering up the massive belly bump:


And wearing all black is also a great shrinking trick:


As a result, I'm in my last trimester and some people still just think I've gained a bit of weight! But, as you can see, the belly is ginormous now. I'll never stop being in awe at how the right clothing can hide so so much!



So now that I'm in the final stretch, I've been pleasantly shocked at how easy pregnancy has been. It's like a non-event. Other than giving up jogging (and caffeine and cold medicine when I'm sick) it really hasn't intruded much on my life. It's just like having a beer-gut I imagine. And in fact, when I look in the mirror, I reminded of this old pastor I used to know who had one of those bellies that hung over his belt.

I am however, starting to grow terrified at (a) the impending actual birth and (b) the reality of having to take care of a very demanding fragile human.

And also, I'm a tad shocked at how my baby will likely look. Just today I found a picture of my hubby when he was a baby, and...well, I'm still adjusting to it. The baby version of him is just so uncanny...he looks like him, just imprinted on a soft pudgy face. It's so trippy...like some genetic optical illusion.

Pwnage #3--The Tsunami Strikes

This pwnage was so deep and devastating I haven’t even been able to blog about it until a full week after. It started mid-week, crescendo-ed to a frenzy on Saturday, and slowly ebbed out to sea sometime on Friday of the next week.

I’m still suffering from PTSD.

I especially resented the Saturday pwnage since the assignment came literally, Friday night at 11:30 pm and was due Saturday night. And, of course, it was the equivalent of at least 3 days’ work crammed into one (read: I was stressed out of my mind). Towards the end of Saturday I had devolved into a pile of bitter primordial goop, muttering curses to myself under my breath every 10 seconds like a mentally deranged person with tourettes. Not pretty.

Although I know that many litigation associates work much longer hours than I do, it’s really not the same. As a corporate associate, as I’ve emphasized many a time to my litigating counterparts, YOU CAN’T PREDICT WHAT’S COMING. There are no schedules, no fixed court deadlines, absolutely no way to plan. That makes everything at least 10 times more miserable and a lose-lose situation almost every time.

Take any given Saturday. If I DON’T plan anything, I may discover that I actually HAD time and COULD’VE done something. If I DO plan something, I may discover that I have to cancel.

You just can’t win. Either way, you’re going to kick yourself. How do people live like this?!?!

Pwnage #2 of 2010

And, soon after the March 26th first pwnage of the year, comes the second.

This Friday (and NOT before then), I found out I had a tight Saturday night deadline. I worked until 10pm on Friday and from 9am to 11:30pm on Saturday, and barely made it. Just barely.

So far, statistically speaking, pwnages come when I've got major plans for the weekend. The first one dropped when I was supposed to drive an hour away to celebrate my grandfather and dad's birthdays which happened to be on the same day. This second one happened when I had lined up some fantastic eating opportunities with friends and a hobby class.

I'm expecting a third pwnage soon since I've been warned that I've been put on 3 big ugly projects simultaneously. But, it wouldn't be a pwnage if you KNEW when they would hit and exactly what your crazy schedule would be. No, that would just be called "having a lot of work to do." In true pwn-like fashion, these projects are massive, but I have NO IDEA when they will happen, what schedule I'll be on, and thus, what personal plans I can or cannot keep.

That whooshing you hear is the sound of my soul being flushed down the toilet.

Go-go Granny

I saw the coolest granny on the BART today.

She had a perfectly flipped out bob of blonde hair (not one speck of white), but you could tell from her face she was at least 80.

With an expert sense of balance, she "surfed" the train car as it lurched to the next stop, reading her fashion magazine the entire time (fantastic taste in literature). As the doors opened, she lept out and ran up the escalator stairs, light and sprightly.

What a testament to life after 60. Go granny!

Predator Island

Oprah recently re-aired a story about a special confinement center informally dubbed Predator Island, in the beautiful Puget Sound.

It’s a facility that houses sexual predators, 60% of which are child molesters. This is not a prison, however. The unique twist is that all these predators have already served their sentences, but a judge has assigned them to be civilly committed because they are too likely to re-offend. If these predators elect to go through treatment, and are declared “cured,” they can get off the island.

But why would they want to?


Oprah’s cameras panned around the facility and it seriously looks like a state-of-the-art dormitory. There are recreational rooms with brand new basketball courts, flat-screen tv’s, computers, libraries, comfortable beds, etc. This facility is not like a run-down nasty inner-city public school. It is pretty darn posh. Oh yeah, and free health-care!

If I ever find myself down-and-out and about to be homeless, I'm going to pretend to molest someone, plead guilty, and spend the rest of my life in ease and comfort, courtesy of Uncle Sam. Inmates can knit, sew, do woodworking, all kinds of hobbies. Sign me up!

It is reported that federal tax payers spend $165,000 per offender each year to put them up in these nice digs!

That just seems wrong to me. Why can’t we just chemically castrate them and then release them back into society? It would be so much cheaper and, *bonus* they would never offend again. Problem solved.

Just another case of our tax dollars “hard at work” subsidizing the Washington State economy. FAIL.

You can read more about this depressing topic here.

Not Cute

My outfit today is so sad. So dumpy, frumpy and just...sad.

To the untrained eye, I look like I'm wearing the exact same thing I wore yesterday. But in fact, everything's different except for the fuschia scarf around my neck.

The sameness is an illusion brought on by the fact that all my clothes are drabby. I don't wake up early enough to put together a thoughtful outfit and I don't fit into anything that I used to rely on. Sigh.

This clothing rut thing has become endemic ever since the belly started expanding. Now I know how mom-jeans begin. How getting behind in your fashion starts. And how women in their mid-thirties can end up looking like life has totally passed them by.

IT'S ALREADY BEGUN! ACK! SAVE YOURSELVES, IT'S TOO LATE FOR ME!

The Why

Recently, a commenter left this message on an old post I wrote last year (in which I basically said I don't feel the need to have kids):

"Just reading your blog and I was wondering what happened to change your mind about having kids. I relate with this blog post, so was just curious about what moved you to change your mind (as I see from your more recent posts that you are expecting a baby)."

This is a great question. And actually I've been wondering this myself for the last couple weeks and wanted to post about it. So, gentle reader, your timing is impeccable.

Causation is a tricky animal and it has many forms. The glib and proximate cause of my deciding to have a kid was that, quite frankly, I wanted to go on maternity leave. I hope my employer is not reading this.

But really, that's not a good enough reason. The short-lived boon of maternity leave hardly outweighs the years of dedication and nurture it takes to raise a kid. But it did provide the perfect opportunity to execute on a plan that I felt was inevitable.

Even though I never had an urge to procreate, the spouse had an altogether different take on the matter. To say he was gung-ho about having kids would be like saying Tiger Woods is an a-hole--a huge understatement. In fact, anytime I would talk about a hypothetical future with no kids in it, I would see his face fall into the saddest puddle. So I knew. I knew, eventually, one day, the spouse had to have kids otherwise he'd be quite miserable, and I couldn't bear to be the cause of that.

And after all, having kids is a positive thing in general. It's a productive way to contribute to society--who else is going to pay for my medicare and social security benefits? It's also a humanizing experience, an opportunity to learn more about the human and the divine.

It's not something I would've jumped into myself, but heck, it's not a bad thing and it makes at least one person in this world very happy. I'll never forget the day I decided to take the plunge and not take my contraceptive pill for the first time in 6 years. It was scary. I had to have my mom talk me through it. "Really mom? You think I should do this? Really? You think now is a good time?" Doubts, doubts, and more doubts.

But you know the deep irony of having a kid? I've only begun to realize this myself--the little bugger comes with it's own "don't worry, just love me" hormone package. It's like what everyone, including my mother, told me would happen--when you realize you are having a kid, something naturally kicks in. All of a sudden, my years of apathy has turned into complete and utter excitement and unadulterated joy.

After years of weighing the pros and cons of child-rearing, I can no longer see the cons. The downside has miraculously and deliriously disappeared. Somehow, it's as if half my brain has melted away, overtaken by this baby hormonal craziness. Amazing how nature just hijacks you both physically and emotionally.

I don't even know myself anymore. Whatever happened to the person who, just one year ago, thought having a kid would be a total drag? Who looked at young moms with pity and a sense of relief that that was not me.

Apparently, this alien invasion is complete. I'm overcome, body, mind and soul.

Annoyed

Today I'm going to b*tch about my client.

My stupid client, who sent out an email last night at 10:30PM--that's bedtime people--to schedule a conference call for the next morning at 8:30AM.

That's a wierd time, 8:30AM. Most people wait until 9 before requiring good folks to be in their offices. (But most folks don't actually come in until 9:30, shhhhhh.) This client is on West Coast time as well so there is no good reason to schedule an IMPROMPTU meeting that early. Really. No reason.

But here's the kicker folks!

The same crazy client then CANCELS the scheduled meeting at precisely 8:16AM in the morning, a mere 14 minutes before we were supposed to get on the call. YOU CANNOT SET UP A CALL AT A WIERD HOUR WITH LITTLE NOTICE AND THEN CANCEL IT!!!

I won't get into the varied and sundry ways this messed up my morning commute. But it was very very annoying. Let's just say it involved paying 6 extra bucks for parking, a LOT of panicking, and no time to put "my face" on.

And He Talks Too!

I don't talk about the spouse much, but I just have to post this video of him talking about our new church start-up in the East Bay.

Each time I watch it (and I've watched it a lot), I just want to pinch his cute little cheeks and plant a huge smooch on my computer screen. Who cares what he's saying in the video. Just kidding. Of course I think the content is great too.



It's been over 11 years since we first dated and 7 years since we got hitched, but he's only gotten more adorable over time. Okay, I know, TMI. See, that's why I shouldn't write about the spouse. I'd make y'all gag!

Evil Friday

It was midnight in the garden of good and evil,
And evil prevailed.

As I was sleeping soundly, swaddled in down and cotton,
He was sweating blood.

As I awoke to morning coffee and a rerun of Oprah,
He was unjustly accused and flogged.

As I rode the subway, trying to avoid the snotty, sniffly guy beside me,
He shouldered a heavy beam down dusty streets, now mixed with blood.

As I sit in my temperature controlled office, surfing the web,
He hung there.

All day I will draft contracts and surf the web and worry about pleasing the bosses,
And all day he will hang there in agony.

Why should I gain from his reward?

Can I Just Register for Clothes?

Now that I know I'm having a boy, I've been perusing infant boy clothes on the interwebz. Since it's no longer fun to shop for myself (I refuse to buy expensive maternity clothes, and it's no fun buying cheapy versions)...it's time to shop for my boy.

I love the doodling-feel of this cartoon onesie, perfect for a summer baby (Old Navy):


and this preppy little patchwork romper (bonus points cuz it's not blue!) (also Old Navy, I think):


I also find jokey-onesies hard to resist (Old Navy):


Here's a jokey-onesie for mommy (some t-shirt site):


And one for daddy! (same t-shirt site)

Peon-0; Firm-1

I've decided to keep score.

I'm going to count and record all the times my job unexpectedly pwns my weekend or vacation.

Last weekend is Pwnage #1 of 2010. I got a warning Friday morning that an assignment will drop in my inbox at around 5pm that day. And I'll, unfortunately, have to work for about 10 hours on the weekend to finish it up.

The irony is the document did not come in Friday night. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. But I still cleared my schedule and lived like I was under house arrest.

Okay, truth be told, it wasn't that bad. I still went shopping, played board games, visited a friend, and ran errands. But if the circumstances were different, it could've been a total disaster!

In other news--I got really depressed this weekend thinking about how my days of freedom and frolicking on a whim are soon to be over. With an infant, it will no longer be possible to live a care-free, unfettered existence. :-(

Just As I Suspected...

Well, it came and went, the big gender revealing ultrasound.

It is, as I hoped, as I intuited from the beginning, a boy! At least that's what the technician assured me. She said it was definitely, definitely a boy. I said, really? How can you tell? Because seriously, other than seeing some vertebrae and fingers at certain points, everything else just looked like blobby fuzz to me.

I am, much to the spouse's frustration, severely directionally and spatially challenged. So trying to make out what was appearing on the screen was like telling a dyslexic monkey to write backwards while looking in a mirror.

The technician would point out different body parts--see, there's the kidneys--and I would feign understanding with a weak--oh, yeah, uh huh. But really, in all truth, I had no idea what I was looking at. It didn't help that the fetus was moving around like a astronaut in zero gravity--doing flips and somersaults constantly. I guess I drank too much coffee and sugary fruit juice beforehand (deliberately) so I could be sure that it moved enough for us to peer into its privates.

Here's a pic of him with his feet in the air, attempting a back flip.


I never realized how anxiety prone the whole experience would be though. I thought we'd check out the gender real quick, get some measurements and breeze outta there. Instead it took over an hour as the technician catalogued every major organ and made sure all the limbs were present. I found myself holding my breath for long periods until the technician would say, "all there" or "all normal."

Thankfully, so far, so good.

Poop

I heard the best quote today on NPR.

They were doing some story about a laid off dad who now spends everyday at home with his infant, which he really enjoys. And then the narrator said something like, but every situation has its downside...

"Poop," said the dad's voice, "Poop is the major downside."

[End scene]

I laughed hysterically. That is pure poetry.