Lawyerish

The Prize You Don't Want

Last weekend, we were on the subway on our way home from seeing "A View from the Bridge" (which was very well done; Liev Schreiber was particularly excellent and also hot enough to distract me from the fact that New York theater seats were apparently designed for people with two-foot long legs, heavily padded butts and limitless bladder capacity (ONE ladies room, TWO stalls, OMG)), and -- actually, we might have been going from work to birthing class, now I can't remember and we're talking about something that happened less than seven days ago; send brain cells, please -- ANYWAY, this old man who was sitting near us stood up and all this change started falling out of his pockets and his bag.  There were coins rolling everywhere and he was frantically trying to pick them up, which only resulted in more change dropping from various places on his person (Joe:  "This guy's like a slot machine!"). 

While bending down in hapless pursuit of his escaping coins, he started dropping F-bombs in rapid succession, which didn't seem all that out of proportion to the situation although perhaps not entirely commendable in a public setting, but then he escalated it and started stomping his feet wildly while shouting obscenities, at which point we got up and moved to the other end of the car.  There's nothing quite like a 70-something year old man throwing a full-body tantrum on the subway, I tell you. 

Joe has a term for sitting next to a nutjob or bum on the subway (or having them come and sit next to you):  the booby prize.  We were on the train a couple of years ago with my parents, and a raggedly dressed man who was carrying about 5,000 plastic grocery bags filled with stuff got on and beelined for the seat next to my dad.  Joe leaned over to me and said, "Uh oh.  Jim got the booby prize." 

I seem to attract the booby prize quite a bit.  We were coming home from work a few weeks ago and a guy came and sat next to me looking reasonably normal, but once he got settled he leaned forward and put his hands on his knees and started rubbing them in a circular motion while rocking back and forth.  He did this for the entire ride, and even when several seats on the other side of him opened up (mostly by people who realized they'd gotten the booby prize too -- I didn't move because there was nowhere else to go and I am sure as hell not standing in my rotund condition), he remained practically glued to my side and continued his rocking, to the point that I was almost laying in Joe's lap to avoid bodily contact with the Knee-Rubber. 

Relatedly, and as an update to an earlier conversation, I have been pleasantly surprised by the number of people who have given up their seat for me on the train.  I'd say from about my sixth month on, this started happening more regularly.  It's still not every day, but maybe slightly more than half the time someone will let me sit down.  The rest of the time, I can tell that the people sitting in front of me are aware that I am there in all my big-bellied glory, but they hold their paper right up in front of their face or become supremely interested in their iPod so they can feign ignorance. 

Young guys in their teens and early 20s are the worst offenders; I could probably pass out or go into labor and they would pretend not to even see me.  (They are also the ones who sit spread-eagled, with their legs splayed and their hands in their pockets, elbows thrust out to the sides, so they take up about three seats, which drives me insane).  Older (50s and up) men are not much better and are the most likely to see me on the platform and then shove or elbow me aside when the train arrives so they can get on and get a seat first.  Women, predictably, give me their seats most often, but occasionally it's a guy of about my age or in his 40s. 

In fact, just last week I got onto a packed car and a guy saw me, stood up and gestured to his seat.  I thanked him and, just before I got to the seat, this middle-aged woman came BARRELING past me, out of nowhere, and wedged herself into it.  The guy and I were standing right there, so she had to have seen us, but what can you do?  We looked at each other and just laughed.  He shrugged and I thanked him again and the woman dug into her tote bag, took out a book and contentedly began to read. 

That's New York for you.

The latest pregnancy news, which I am sure you were all awaiting with bated breath, is that I have begun to experience the Fiery Lava Heartburn of DOOOOOM on a quasi-regular basis.  Tums is the answer, I have discovered, and as a bonus are vaguely SweeTart-esque.  For her part, the baby is getting crowded in there, and she likes to poke her feet into my ribs to stretch out, which is cute and sometimes kind of tickles, but other times seems to cause internal bruising.  She does an enthusiastic side-to-side shimmy a lot, too, and it's rather spectacular to watch my belly violently sway back and forth like there might be a rabid cat trapped inside it.  Then there are the left hooks to my bladder -- always a pleasure; there's nothing like peeing yourself a little in the produce section of the Whole Foods. 

Most of the time I really can't tell what's what -- is that her head or her butt?  Foot, hand, elbow, knee?  It's all very mysterious.  I wish I had a little door on my stomach so I could peek in and see what in the world this kid is up to. 

We've got somewhere between three and a half and six and a half weeks to go, though I am still counting on her to join us on the 37 weeks-ish side of full-term -- in our family, being on time means being early, you know -- and there remains the exciting question of whether she'll end up being a Pisces (before March 20) or an Aries.  We've got pretty much every bit of gear we could possibly need and a tremendous amount of adorable clothes, not to mention blankies and loveys and stuffed animals and books galore, and we've been reminding her of this a lot to entice her into the outside world (not quite yet, but SOON).  We are so ready.

I do need to get a pedicure, though, as we get closer, because I'd hate to frighten the L&D nurses with my gnarly toes.  That might be their version of the booby prize. 

A Long Ramble, But Also: Pretty Pictures!

One thing I really love is seeing people find what they were meant to do in life.  So many of us have careers that are just fine or hobbies that keep us reasonably content -- or maybe we drift around from thing to thing, always searching for that One True Thing, that perfect intersection between what we love to do and what we excel at -- but when you see someone who has truly connected with what they're doing, it's something special. 

I have a close friend who practiced law for a little while but then segued into academia, and now I can't imagine him doing anything else, ever.  It's so exactly the right thing for him, and he's the right person for it, and it's as though there are no bounds on how high he can go with his work.  I've watched this happen with other people, too, and while I don't think everyone on Earth can do their One True Thing for a living (some have to settle for it being a hobby -- after all, who would make the toilet paper and bag the groceries?), it's comforting to know that the possibility exists to put your innate talents to use and even use them to pay the bills.

I, for one, haven't a clue what my One True Thing is or might be; I mean, there was ballet, but that was a thousand years ago and then I thought for a while it was acting, but so many barriers stood between me and success in that field that it didn't seem attainable, and I've always wanted it to be writing, but I haven't exactly taken that bull by the horns and actually, you know, written anything (not to completion, anyway, and certainly not to publication).  I feel like one aspect of finding one's One True Thing is that, while serious, hard work is still required, the usual roadblocks and hassles that get in the way of success somehow disappear, or at least recede to the point of manageability -- connections appear out of thin air, the energy and drive to pursue the Thing never run out, and people and opportunities seem to materialize at precisely the right juncture -- and I haven't witnessed that in my own life, at least in terms of careers/avocations. 

Maybe it will never happen for me, and that's ok; I don't think there is anything wrong with doing something you're reasonably good at and making a respectable living even if you're not going to take the world by storm nor find some yogic fulfillment doing it, because there's plenty of contentment to be found elsewhere in life.  And in fact, there's a certain disservice we do to ourselves by fixating on this idea that there's something bigger and better out there, when in fact our own lives could be plenty fulfilling if we spent less of them searching for some unknown something that might make us happier. 

I believe that a lot of happiness derives from being satisfied with what we ALREADY have, rather than constantly trying to find some other, allegedly better thing, whether it's a different table in a restaurant (I, for one, will sit at a table unless it's basically IN the kitchen, but man, New Yorkers?  Are OBSESSED with table selection and will dither for twenty minutes and move five times if they feel like there is somewhere, anywhere better to sit) or a better house or a different career.  We can't ALL be Oprah or New York Times best-selling authors or make our Broadway debut (not that everyone's One True Thing has to be so BIG or involve fame and fortune; it could be quiet and simple and something no one but a handful of people will ever know about, but you know what I mean).  So, in a sense, the One True Thing is a myth that we're best not getting too excited about; maybe we'll find it, but maybe we won't, and if it's the latter, that has to be ok.  There has to be enough other stuff in our lives that it doesn't really matter, in the end.

Nevertheless, as I said, there's something cool about seeing people discover their true talent and find a way to make that their work. 

Somehow I got off on this tangent because I was thinking about how Laura has found both her passion and her talent with photography, and it makes you think, YES.  Case in point: she made Joe and me and the belly look amazingly good (although, whoa, the belly looks WAY bigger than it does in my bathroom profile shots).  You can see a set of photos from our shoot, plus a great slideshow of a larger set, here at her fabulous website.  I can't even tell you how excited we are for her to unleash her photographic brilliance on the baby (we're going to do shoots with her every three months for the baby's first year, beginning with a wee-tiny newborn session within the first couple of weeks, eeeee!). 

Here's a few of our maternity shots to give you an idea:

Housekeeping

Thanks, y'all, for all the support and the war stories and the encouragement on the last entry.  It helps so so so so much to know that so many people have slogged through The Not-Sleeping and lived to tell about it.  You're all phenomenal, and it's comforting just to know that I can always come here and vent and commiserate and you'll BE HERE for me.  Yay.

So!  Birthing class.  Installment One was actually really informative and enjoyable and...well, even with the mullet-tastic video involving women making farm animal sounds and close-up shots of The Business, it was sort of comforting, in a very odd and surprising way.  And, if I can say this without punching myself in the face, I feel sort of excited about the labor and delivery process, in the way that I get excited about running a marathon -- I know I am going to be pushed to my limits in a million different and unexpected ways and I'll have the chance to see what I am mentally and physically capable of, regardless of the method by which the baby ends up having to come out.  I know it will quite possibly suck in all sorts of ways, but hey, FINALLY meeting our baby is one pretty great finish line, you know? 

Meanwhile, I'm sure you've been wondering whether I've used the immersion blender and slow cooker I got for Christmas.  I should let you out of your suspense and tell you that yes!  Yes, I have.  And they are rather awesome. 

In the slow-cooker, I've made barbecue pulled pork (transcendant), Boston baked beans (yum), classic beef stew (good, but the recipe needs some tweaking), Indian curry (delish), chicken masala (mmm) and chicken and dumplings (regrettable).  (All from the cookbook that came out of this blog).  I love how once you've thrown everything into the cooker, your dinner obligation is pretty much complete.  I also love how tender the meat comes out after simmering all day, how the flavors blend together with the longer cooking time, how there is usually enough for two nights of dinners and how you can get a full complement of protein and veggies in if you use the right recipe.  In short, the slow cooker was a definite score.

I've also made good use of the stick blender, primarily for smoothies on the weekends (during the week, it's all I can do to shove a yogurt and a Balance Bar into my bag before trudging off to work).  I put a bunch of frozen peaches in the little blendy-cup thing they give you, maybe cut up a banana as well, swirl in a bit of honey, sprinkle in cinnamon and flax seed, and slosh some milk over it all, then blend for a few minutes until it's frothy and thick and milkshake-y.  Oh, yes.

I used to sometimes get a hankering for a Jamba Juice-esque blended beverage, but never felt like hauling out the big old blender and having to wash all the parts afterward (or, for that matter, walking over to Jamba Juice and standing on their ENDLESS line) and OH, the LABOR was TOO MUCH, so this is perfect for making the Lazy Woman's Smoothie.  I have also used the stick to blend soups, which again had seemed unreasonably labor-intensive when a real blender was involved, but now I don't have to remove anything from the pot until it's ready to serve.  Wonders!

Separately, I would like to take a moment to note that I have just as many issues with maternity clothing sizes as I did with normal clothes.  Evidently it is too much to ask that things be sized consistently -- I have this one pair of Gap maternity jeans that I bought in my pre-pregnancy size (which they tell you to do at the outset, although I found that half the shirts in my regular size fit fine and half were too small, and of course you GROW during pregnancy, so the whole thing is counter-intuitive and stupid) and they fit great (although, as one might expect, they are becoming a hair more snug as time passes), so I ordered a second pair in the same size but a different wash and when they arrived I put them on and could not MOVE.  So back they went and, just to be safe, I ordered TWO sizes up as a replacement, so naturally that pair is ENORMOUS and falls off me as I walk, but I couldn't be bothered to send them back a second time so I just deal (and I'm sure I will be grateful for the extra room soon).

The other thing is that they have all these different styles of waistbands for pants -- no-panel, hidden panel, demi-panel, over-the-head panel -- but what no one bothered to mention was that the no-panel kind don't really WORK when your belly gets past a certain size, because there's nowhere for the pants to GO, nothing for them to grab onto, so they basically just fall right off.  Which means I have three pairs of pregnancy pants that are utterly useless now.

Plus, with the demi-panel, sometimes the elastic is not really as strong as it should be (I'm looking at you, Gap), so once again you have the southward-moving pants problem -- you're walking along and suddenly you feel like there is WIND passing over your drawers, so you have to hitch up your trousers every two minutes, which really adds to the look of sophistication you're going for as a waddling pregnant woman in a tent-sized coat.  Yet you don't want to wear full-panel all the time (or add on a Bella Band), because my God the ITCHING.  On the up side, I have found that dresses work well as a wardrobe option, although it's not every day that you want to wrestle yourself into maternity tights so that only takes you so far.

Oh!  Also!  I wanted to tell you that I have butt ointment on my face.  My doctor recommended that I use A+D Ointment on those dry, rashy spots on my chin, and it seems to be working.  They're not totally gone, but they're much less red and angry looking.  And I smell like a clean baby's butt, so there is that.

By the way, apropos of nothing, I have to note that I really miss running.  I do.  SO much.  Power-walking and workout DVDs are keeping me from losing my mind entirely, but I am a little melancholy over the absence of running in my life.  It just feels so GOOD and there is simply no substitute for even a brief four-mile trot in the park to clear the head and energize the body.  I can't wait to get back into it. 

But then it hit me this morning that it's not like the baby will pop out and I'll be out for a run the next morning or even the next week or possibly the next MONTH OR MORE.  And when I am finally able to get out there, I may have...ISSUES resulting from the baby's exit, and it may take a really long time for things to normalize, so running may not be the joyous romp that I am pining for now.  Oh, BIOLOGY.  How you toy with me.

Finally, I don't usually like to blog ABOUT blogging, but I've been meaning to put up some kind of entry or additional page or...something to explain the whole adoption story, since newcomers or people looking for information about adoption don't have much of a way to unearth the old posts about that stuff seeing as (a) I got rid of the category for it and (b) I deleted a lot of those old entries in a fit of pique when everything went haywire in the fall of 2008.  I DO have a nutshell summary on the About page, but it doesn't get into the nitty-gritty.  So that may be coming soon, although it also kind of makes me tired to think about writing and executing it.  I will have to be in the right mood, perhaps. 

I've also been thinking about whether to have my site redesigned, but there again the idea of finding someone to hire for the project and doing...whatever it is you do to implement such a plan (or even just fiddling with Typepad templates) also makes me weary.  And there is something oddly comforting to me about my sad, plain little blue website, without ads or adornment of any kind except Miles's little face up there in the corner.  On the one hand, I want to make my readers feel welcome and happy when they come here; on the other, I know most people probably follow along in Reader or don't come here for the design anyway, so I wonder if it even matters.  Fret, fret, fret.

Sleepless

I've started to become a bit concerned about the whole sleep deprivation element of having a newborn. 

I don't do at all well with not sleeping.  I am a solid eight-hours-a-night girl, and on weekends and vacations I can easily put in nine or more hours at a stretch.  I have also been known to add naps into the mix with some level of frequency. 

When I don't get enough sleep, things start to break down in a hurry.  I become grouchy, clumsy and prone to emotional meltdowns.  My temper flares at the slightest provocation and the simplest of tasks seem to swell to unmanageable proportions.  My blood sugar goes haywire (which also causes unpretty behavior, eesh).  Catastrophic thinking sets in, such that I become convinced that not only will I never sleep again, but that everything is woe and misery and every force in the universe is against me and WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE, RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW from the sheer weight of my crushing fatigue.

When I disembark an overnight transatlantic flight, for example, and the tinny light of the early morning hits my gritty, clouded eyes after I've been crunched in an unforgiving airline seat for seven hours and haven't gotten more than maybe ten minutes of head-bobbing, drooling sleep, I'm able to cruise on the adrenaline of exploration (a new country! how thrilling!) and necessity (must.find.hotel.) for a while, and then can eke out about a half-day of moderately strenuous sight-seeing, so long as I eat something every couple of hours.  But around three in the afternoon, things start to unravel, and suddenly the inability to pinpoint our location on a map or the appearance of a long line to get into a museum becomes an insurmountable problem of global significance, and if I don't find my way to a bed in very short order, there is likely to be an international incident.

I'm extrapolating what it will be like to do that -- or some semblance of that -- EVERY SINGLE DAY, and...yikes.

I'm also imagining that the added cocktail of hormones, body weirdness, pain in unmentionable places and the general bewilderment that accompanies probably the biggest life change a human can experience is going to create, shall we say, less than ideal conditions in which for me to operate on fewer than my required hours of sleep. 

Yes, there will also be the adrenaline rush of the newness of it and the heart-stopping moments of parental love and all of that, but I'm not sure that I will be able to magically overcome 34 years of sleep-dependence and morph into one of those people who perks right out of bed after sleeping from 1 to 4am and tackles the day with aplomb.  I'm picturing day after day of me standing in the kitchen weeping uncontrollably because I spilled some Cheerios on the counter or stomping around barking at everyone because I can't find the extra wipes, oh my GOD, WHERE ARE THEY and why can't I ever FIND ANYTHING and this apartment SUCKS with its crappy EVERYTHING and why are we even IN this stupid CITY with all the ASS-PEOPLE who live here and why must they HONK ALL THE TIME on our street, don't they know we have a BABY IN HERE?

Not to mention that, having forsaken caffeine for just shy of a year, plunging back into coffee or Diet Coke usage make not be the smoothest transition, either -- I imagine I'll end up sitting blank-eyed on the couch, quietly twitching from the onslaught of stimulant into my system, or I'll be all the more volatile and even more minor things will set me off than would have with the fatigue alone (God help us all).

I suppose with these things you just do the best you can and you muddle through it -- gracefully or not -- and you lean on each other and step in when the other person has Had It (note: this is ALWAYS going to be me, since Joe can function on far less sleep than I can) and one day, if you're lucky, your baby starts sleeping through the night, or at least waking up less often and at longer intervals.  And yes, of course, it's all worth it and it's temporary and survivable and all that, but I'm still a bit preoccupied with what it's really going to be LIKE and what I'll be able to DO to survive without completely flying to pieces. 

(I know, I know:  sleep when the baby sleeps! Haaaa, well.  I have been around the block enough to know that THAT doesn't work for everyone, and anyway I figure there will be an awful lot to DO when the baby is sleeping, such as showering, eating, exercising, cleaning the disaster that will likely be our apartment, tending to the animals, letting family and friends know we're still alive, and of course catching up on blog-reading (what?) -- and knowing me, I won't be able to turn off the mental urge to do all those things even if all I want to do is lay down and slip into a coma.  So, yeah, it's a nice idea, but I know I'll also want to Get Shit Done and not have my life fall into shambles around me).

Of course, right now -- when everyone and their mother feels compelled to remind us, with an almost sadistic, knowlng chuckle, to get our sleep while we still can! because there will be none of that when the baby comes! -- I am ensconced in the cruel joke of the third trimester, in which you sleep less AND less deeply (and, by the way, have unbeLIEVably weird and disturbing dreams) and in which your body is already screaming with fatigue, so this is very much on my mind and I want to BANK SLEEP to establish some kind of RESERVE, but I can't, and I know it doesn't work that way, anyway, so I am left to stew about it and write this little cry for help.

Personal Growth

Was it me, or was the pre-Golden Globes red carpet coverage the most awkward thing ever aired on network television?  I get that it was raining and all (since they seemingly could talk about NOTHING ELSE), but Billy Bush looked downright FURIOUS every time they showed him, as if he were TOO BIG to be dealing with such things as RAIN and UMBRELLAS.  He kept huffing around, trying to scare up a big name star for an interview, and he had this crankypants look on his face the entire time (and what is WITH his face, anyway?  it looks...not right).  At one point he literally chased George Clooney -- he was RUNNING after GC -- and started peppering questions at George's back as George (rather sweetly, I thought) signed autographs and greeted fans and ignored Mr. Sourpuss.  Kind of hilarious, really.

So the other day, I went for the usual pee-in-a-cup/weigh-in/blood pressure/Doppler/any questions? check-up, and it was the first time I'd seen my own doctor (as opposed to the others in her practice) since October, before she went and had a baby of her own.  That last visit, lo those many months ago, was when she'd given me the talking-to about gaining too much weight (as sweetly as a person can say such a thing, for real -- she is SO nice and so upbeat, so it's not like I have been holding a grudge all this time, but it was still Out There).  This time, she walked in and exclaimed, "Oh, your belly is PERFECT!" and proceeded to commend me on everything from my bloodwork to my girth.  Which was actually very gratifying, because one takes what one can get in these matters and anyway I'm a sucker for approval of virtually any kind, sad as that may be. 

And of course, it's not like I have been abstemious for the past several months -- there has been much baking and feasting and general merriment, and nothing in the way of deprivation -- so evidently my body just needed to pack on some pounds at the outset, and then it leveled off.  Which is what I sort of figured back at the time, although hearing the cautionary words still made me feel like I was FAILING in some small way.  Like I had Gotten It Wrong.  Welcome to the mind of The Chronic Overachiever: Pregnancy Edition. 

The odd thing is, I had always thought that I would LOATHE the way my body looked and felt if I got pregnant, but from the first sign of that pooch (when I was, like, FIVE MINUTES pregnant) to today's beach ball look, I've felt fine with it.  Just as I did pre-pregnancy, I have days where I feel bloated or icky, but on the whole my body image has been positive.  I feel cute and strangely strong and sort of proud about this big ol' belly.  It's fun to watch my body transform in ways I hadn't really imagined before.  And obviously it's all for the best cause ever and all that, so it makes sense that I wouldn't mind the changes, but rationality and logic don't usually come into play when we're talking about our bodies and how we feel about them, you know?  So that's another pleasant surprise here in Bellyland.  They just keep on coming. 

In other news, today we had our maternity photo shoot with Laura, and it was so much fun!  She is just as pretty and sweet as I'd imagined her to be, and it was very comforting to hear her lovely Southern accent.  I'm really excited about the photos -- we'll finally have some belly shots that do not involve our bathroom towels or my many shades of sweatpants! -- as I know that with her talent it somehow won't matter that my hair was completely frizzed on one side or that Joe blinked in half the shots.  And the next time we have a shoot with her, it will be OF THE BABY.  Of OUR baby.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Here are the last two weeks' worth of sweatpant-belly-shots, for weeks 29 and 30 -- the 29-week-ers feature a guest appearance from a certain resident smartass dad.  Hee.

Complimentary

I was going to write a whole post about what's been keeping me awake at night lately (in short: panicked thoughts about baby gear -- the concept of motherhood doesn't faze me in the slightest anymore, but what gets me all bound up is whether we will have the right STUFF -- and my own unbelievably loud breathing, which has become so labored and congested at night that forcing air in and out of my body approaches the decibel level of a freight train), but...well, I'm too exhausted.  I've also been working all weekend; evidently the concept of "easing back in" has been abandoned in favor of hours upon hours of eye-bleeding screen time.  No rest for the weary. 

However, I did see a post the other day by The New Girl, which I am now going to shamelessly copy, because I thought the topic was a fun one and I am hoping some audience participation will enliven me over the next few days as I continue with the work-slogging.  (Hint, hint.) 

So the question is, on what are you most often complimented? 

For me, the first answer that springs to mind -- although it's seldom the case anymore -- is my hair.  For most of my life, people have exclaimed over my hair color, and I always thought it rather special and unique to have this reddish-blonde (or "strawberry blonde", if you must) follicular combo.  Hairdressers have also frequently commented that it's very soft and well-maintained, as with a newly groomed dog's sleek coat.  Sometimes I do still get compliments on it, but since my haggard old age of 34 and the rigors of gestating seem to have dulled the sheen and paled the color, the level of enthusiasm has waned substantially of late.  O, MY SQUANDERED BEAUTY, WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME? 

This seems like an odd thing, but people also remark on my height a lot.  "You're so nice and tall!", they'll say (or, upon meeting me, "Gosh, I didn't realize you'd be so TALL!"); and, come to think of it, it's probably one of the things I like most about my physical self, and also one of the things I take most for granted.  I tend to forget that most people are not 5'11" or that my height is in any way out of the ordinary.  (This could be because I come from a very tall gene pool; when the extended clan, with all my 6'4"-and-up cousins gets together, my just-barely-six-feet-tall husband looks downright tiny.)  I always wanted to reach 6 feet when I was a kid, but I'm pretty happy where I ended up. 

Interestingly, most people do not ask me if I modeled or played basketball, probably because on sight it is perfectly obvious that I'm not at all suited to either one.  Although it IS nice to be called things like "willowy" and "statuesque" and -- my favorite of all, and I liked it so much I had to marry the guy who first said it -- "coltish." 

There's also my posture.  After more than 20 years of ballet training, I can't help but have good posture, at least when I'm walking around -- when I'm sitting at my desk, I am often hunched and droopy and have to remind myself that having my face an inch from the keyboard isn't really the way to go.

In terms of non-physical things, I probably have been complimented the most on my writing, my efficiency, and my advice-giving. 

I'm no Hemingway, but stringing together sentences has always come fairly easily to me (all that time spent tearing through every book in the local library had to have SOME effect) and many teachers, family members and colleagues have commented on that in a favorable way.  And while I do lots of things in my job, if you boil it down I basically write for a living (in a much different way than perhaps I once thought I would, but still), so I've had lots of time and opportunity to hone my ability to say things clearly, concisely and persuasively (even though I STANK at legal writing when I was a fledgling law student -- I mean, I was HORRIBLE at it, which was very distressing because I'd always been told I had some kind of innate writing ability, like what do you MEAN?  I'm a GOOD writer, damn you!). 

(Note: these alleged writing skills are not all that evident here, the site of my meandering brain dumps, so you'll have to take my word for it that I am pretty good at writing ELSEwhere.)

Others have also observed that I'm pretty quick at getting things done.  One could, I suppose, argue that this is due to a certain slapdash carelessness, but I actually seem to manage to accomplish efficiency AND accuracy...MOST of the time, anyhow.  I don't like to labor endlessly over discrete tasks; I like to get them DONE and move on to the NEXT thing. 

Finally, I have been told on more than one occasion that I give good advice.  Which is sort of funny, because whenever someone presents a problem or dilemma to me, my initial reaction is to fly into a panic over whether they are seeking my advice, or just venting and don't want to hear my stupid psychobabble.  And then I tend to obsess over whether the commentary and advice I give might be misconstrued or may somehow give offense.  And THEN I tend to conclude that whatever I said was incredibly obvious and stupid, and that the person is sitting there thinking I am the lamest jerk in the world.  Which maybe makes it a good thing that I didn't pursue psychology as a career, after all. 

Your turn! 

Getting Through

I've just taken down our tree and Christmas decorations, and I've ordered a few post-Christmas sale items (socks, mostly, because that's how exciting I am), and in less than 24 hours I will be back at my desk, feeling like the two weeks of vacation and all the holiday fun are a distant memory. 

January and February are always rather bleak, but this year they seem all the more like an inconvenient, cold and cruel two months that stand between me and The Main Event of 2010, so I'm trying to think of things I have to look forward to in order to get me through.  I'm now at 28 and a half weeks, and I waffle wildly between feeling like there is TOO MUCH TIME LEFT, CAN WE HURRY IT UP (not to mention wondering, um, where is all this going to GO, because things are already rather crowded and LARGE up in this body) and having moments where my feet sweat because GOLLY MOSES there will be a tiny human living with us in ELEVEN AND A HALF WEEKS (or thereabouts).  Aieee!

Which brings me to a side point:  it's amazing how anything motherhood-related brings out the "just waits" in people.  You know, the well-meaning comments of, "Oh, you think you're uncomfortable and big NOW; just WAIT til you're six MORE weeks along and the baby's head is wedged behind your ribs!" or "You think having an infant with the flu is bad?  JUST WAIT til she's a teenager and you have to battle with her over curfew!"  

I consider myself to be open and welcoming toward advice of just about any kind, so long as it's not condescending or rude, and I DO love hearing about other people's experiences in great detail, both in "real life" and on this here site (and other people's blogs, obvs).  I don't mind cautionary tales or previews of miseries to come; I am happy to hear them, in fact -- life's rich tapestry and all.  I think it's how it's PRESENTED -- there's something a little deflating about having it suggested that one's current woes (or triumphs, as the case may be) are ultimately irrelevant because they pale in comparison to some moment that's in the offing.  There's also a quiet undertone of one-upmanship in these statements -- you think YOU have it bad?  Listen to what I have to SUFFER! 

Of course, I am downright POSITIVE that I've delivered "just wait" speeches and advice to people on countless occasions, intending in some way to bolster their mood or perspective by showing them that, actually, things aren't so dire and they should buck up!  Because there's plenty of suckage down the line!  So, along with complimenting people more (which is such a small and easy thing that can boost my and another person's mood, but I don't do it nearly often enough), I'm going to work on not doing that. 

And let me reiterate that YOU should please keep sharing your advice and stories here because I LOVE THEM, and I'm not talking about ANY OF YOU ALL with regard to the "just waits"; you're consistently terrific and supportive and great.  Just to be clear.

So anyway!  Back to what I have to look forward to in the next couple of months, before this baby thing turns into a crazy reality: 

-- a new season of "The Bachelor."  It's going to be classless and horrifying and virtually unwatchable.  I know this.  Yet it's just the sort of train wreck that moves the time along.  AND it's on Monday nights, which are usually met with a high level of demoralization (so much of the week left!), so that is a bonus. 

-- a "baby bump" photo session with Laura!  My mom got us a whole maternity and baby photo package with her (which I had ALSO thought to get for Joe, but she beat us to it, because she's awesome), and I can't wait, because I love Laura's work and we've been online buddies for ages so I am dying to meet her.  I need to schedule this ASAP, before all of my clothes stop fitting and I become less cute and more "oof, that looks like it hurts."

-- MLK weekend.  It's not much, but I'll take it. 

-- birthing class.  I doubt we'll go for any kind of specialized classes (Lamaze or Bradley or whatever), but my doctor has a midwife who teaches a childbirth class right there in the office, and from what I've heard it will be a hair less, uh, dumbed down than the classes at the hospital.

-- hospital tour.  I just noticed on this info sheet that my doctor gave me back in the first trimester that I'm supposed to schedule this THREE MONTHS in advance.  Right.  Oops!  Hopefully they'll be able to squeeze us in.  Although between friends having been on bedrest and given birth at our hospital AND our fun-filled peek into L&D triage at 23 weeks, I am relatively familiar with the facilities, and I imagine when the time comes we'll figure it out in any event.

-- interviewing pediatricians and maybe hiring a doula.  Also checking out this store called (I kid you not) the Upper Breast Side to get nursing supplies and advice. 

-- "A View from the Bridge", which we're going to see in late January, starring Liev Schreiber and Scarlett Johansson.  I made sure to get us seats on the aisle to accomodate my need for constant bathroom access.

-- the Olympics.  The winter Olympics are a little meh for me compared with the summer ones; still, athletic feats and figure skating and the like will be fun to add into the mix, especially since I will practically be pinned to the couch under the weight of my own body by then.

That's...mostly it, I think.  If you have any great ways to make the winter months slide by quicker, please share.

Aaaand, picture time!

Looking washed out and rashy-faced and frizzy-haired while opening presents (these weird, red, scaly patches on my chin and cheeks WILL NOT go away; I'm going to ask my doctor about some kind of cortisone cream when I see her next, as the Internet tells me that even topical steroids should only be used under STRICT MEDICAL SUPERVISION during pregnancy, gah):

Making Pioneer Woman's mashed potatoes (OH SO GOOD; all other mashed potatoes are dead to me now) and also making a really weird face:

Tree, presents, cat:

Test-driving the Slanket:

Miles trying out the new dog bed we got him for Christmas:

Miles disregarding his new dog bed and test-driving my Slanket for himself:

28 weeks, 2 days:

Year in Review

As has become tradition in these parts, here is Sundry's year-end quiz (last year's is here and 2007 is here).  I am very glad that I finally have some happier answers to these questions.  Shew. 

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?  Got pregnant!  Went to Hawaii.  Flew in a helicopter.  Went to a luau.  Had a Chicago-style hot dog.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?  I didn't make any last year, and I don't intend to make any this year, either.  Meh. 

3. Did anyone close to you have a child?  Why, yes!  I gained an adorable niece and of course Jonna had her peanut, and our good friends B & C had TWO babies, plus one of my cousins and several other friends had kiddos.  It was kind of a babytastic year, and 2009 is going to be even more so.

4. Did anyone close to you die?  No, thankfully.

5. Where did you travel?  We went to Hawaii, Chicago, Charlotte and my hometown.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2009?  Well, it looks like we're finally going to get that baby we've been waiting for all these years, so that will do.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory?  Ash Wednesday (when we got the big no from Vietnam), July 19 (the little digital screen said "Pregnant"!) and August 7 (tiny flashing heart on a fuzzy black and white screen). 

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?  I don't know if getting pregnant is an achievement, really, but it's something.  I finished three half-marathons -- one in absolutely frigid weather, one in moderate heat in which I face-planted on the Coney Island boardwalk, and one when it was about a million degrees out.  Not much else, really -- that great American novel I've been meaning to start just refuses to write itself. OH, WAIT.  Dianna and I published a book to benefit orphans.  Right.  I had sort of forgotten about that!

9. What was your biggest failure?  Not that it was my fault, but our adoption effort was a huge fail.  And then our Christmas non-trip to Seattle was also unfortunate.  Other than that, I can't say I have that much to beat myself up over this year.  I probably forgot to send a great number of birthday cards; I have gotten sort of terrible about that.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?  Fortunately, I avoided the swine flu despite all the hysteria; other than that, I busted up my knees when I fell in the Brooklyn Half Marathon and I got cheese-grated over the coral when we went snorkeling in Hawaii.  It appears that I am going to have scars on my legs from both of those incidents for life. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?  A new laptop to replace our slow-assed old one. 

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?  Joe's.  As high as my expectations were for how supportive and generally awesome he would be as an expectant dad, he has exceeded them.  Every time I've spazzed out, he has been calm and positive and never showed the sweaty panic that I'm sure he was feeling inside.  And there is just nothing cuter than when he talks to the baby belly or picks out a new outfit for her or talks about taking long strolls in the park with her in a few months.  Hands down, best decision I ever made was marrying this guy.  (He's pretty easy on the eyes, too, and I don't object to the six-pack abs or superhero arms.)

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?  The government of Vietnam in denying our and other families' request for permission to adopt after our original referrals fell through for reasons beyond our control.  Real nice.  But, you know, happy ending and all.

14. Where did most of your money go?  Savings. 

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?  DUH. 

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?  Nothing immediately springs to mind.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:  a) happier or sadder?  b) thinner or fatter?  c) richer or poorer?  Way, way, way happier.  Let's not say FATTER, for goodness sake, but heavier, for obvious reasons.  Richer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?  I can't really think of anything.  I did a fair amount of the stuff I like best -- traveling, spending time with family and friends, reading, emailing (heh), running (at least until October or thereabouts), cooking, eating, napping.  I guess I should say that I wish I'd done more writing-writing (non-work, non-blog writing, that is), but I feel like I'm doing the best I can with the amount of spare time and energy I have, so whatever.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?  Worrying. 

20. How will you be spending Christmas?  We spent it at home, alone, despite the best-laid plans to be with my family in Seattle. 

21. Did you fall in love in 2009?  I'm about to make myself barf, but both of us fell in love as soon as we saw that flicker on the ultrasound screen.

22. What was your favorite TV program?  "30 Rock" and Season 5 (NOT the pathetically sub-par Season 6) of "So You Think You Can Dance."

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?  Not that I can think of. 

24. What was the best book you read?  "Revolutionary Road" (which was a re-read, but still -- SO GOOD) and "American Wife."

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?  I don't think I had one.  I'm not sure I have ever made a musical discovery.

26. What did you want and get?  Pregnant! 

28. What did you want and not get?  Need I rehash this?  

29. What was your favorite film of this year?  "Up in the Air."

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?  I turned 34.  We took the dog for a long walk, went to the doctor and saw our baby's heartbeat for the first time, had lunch at the City Grill followed by a chocolate chip cookie from Jacques Torres, and went to dinner at the Outback. 

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?  Fewer lunatics on the subway.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?  Whatever is on sale at Gap (this now extends to Gap Maternity).

33. What kept you sane?  Running/exercising.  My husband, my family, my friends, my email buddies and my blog readers.  Also all the napping.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?  That would have to be Obama again.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?  Health care reform.  Although, to be honest, I am not the most politically "stirred" person in the world.  I care and all, but I guess I'm selfish and more focused on my own life. 

36. Who did you miss?  My family and Allison.  Thank goodness for email.

37. Who was the best new person you met?  I met a bunch of Joe's college friends in Chicago, and they were all great.  Did I meet other new people?  I'm not even sure.  I have a lot of trouble recalling what has happened this year, especially before July.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.  Even when things seem hopeless, all is not lost.  The universe has a way of unfolding as it should, even if it's completely different than how YOU thought it should. 

The Haul and a Couple of Really Sad/Hilarious Photos

So??  What did you GET?  Tell me!  Tell me right now!  Allison and I used to always call each other the second we finished opening gifts so we could compare notes on our new stuff (now we do the same via email), and I still love hearing about what other people got for Christmas.  So please indulge me here.  If you don't want to do a full list, at LEAST tell me a couple of things you got.  Am waiting with bated breath.

Despite our failure to make it to Seattle for Christmas with my family (boo), we had a nice day here with Miles and the cat.  My mom had shipped all our gifts out to us, so there were plenty of presents to open, especially since the baby isn't able to open her own stuff just yet.  As usual, Joe way outdid me in the giftie department, but he is perfectly happy with the books and shirts and knives (kitchen, not, like, SURVIVAL knives) and, uh, socks he got.  Plus, a lot of the loot I received will result in my cooking more new and creative meals, so in that sense he benefits, too. 

For those who also have an odd fascination with other people's gifts, here's what I got: 

a pair of FitFlop wool clogs (SO. COMFORTABLE.  They're like wearing slippers outside);

a book about unique things to see and do in New York;

a book (really more of a massive tone) about New York history;

a Boppy pillow and cover;

a Cuisinart immersible blender (now I will not have to nap after reading soup instructions involving blending things in batches);

a DVD of the George C. Scott "A Christmas Carol" (which, in my opinion, is the ONLY "Christmas Carol" worth watching); 

the latest Rachael Ray cookbook and a subscription to her magazine (I get a LOT of mileage out of that chick); 

Pioneer Woman's cookbook (I love that it's so chock full of Ree's photos and commentary in addition to so many recipes);

a slow cooker and slow cooker cookbook (if anyone has slow cooker recipes, please feel free to share! I've never used one so I am kind of an amateur, but I think it's going to be great to have); 

A SLANKET (!!!);

a Bill Bryson book about the English language (he could write about paint drying and I would read it, but I also really enjoy geeky stuff like linguistics and etymology);

a trio of Rosebud lip balms (LOVE);

Fresh Lemon Sugar body wash and Hesperides lotion and soap; and

Diamond earrings (I TOLD you Joe TOTALLY outdid me on gifts!!).

And the baby got a lot of really beautiful clothes, a couple of super-soft loveys, some Mary Jane sockies (eee!), some suuuper cute sleep gowns, two lovely fabric books and a handmade sweater, hat, bootie and blankie set.  She really hauled it in, and she's not even BORN yet.  Spoiled girl. 

Also, I gave Joe a scanner, so we are now finally able to upload all the embarrassing photos of ourselves from grade school and beyond.  Which brings me to the following:

This was a birthday party I had that must have been the summer before fourth grade.  I believe I invited nine girls, and maybe one called ahead of time and said she couldn't make it.  NO ONE ELSE regretted, so we prepared for a full party.  The theme was stickers, and my mom and I had devised a scavenger hunt around the house that led each girl to her bag of stickers, which were then to be used to make little pieces of artwork (sticker tableaux, if you will). 

Allison came, of course, and so did another girl who probably showed up under duress since she lived nearby.  We must have waited around for half an hour for everyone else, but no one else appeared.  I think I may have even called to see if some of them were coming, because I distinctly remember speaking to one girl's mom on the phone and she said, "Oh, honey, the invitation is right there on our fridge and we just forgot about your party."  Oof. 

I mean, we had a good time, and honestly so long as Allison was there, I don't think anything else mattered to me, but it makes me sad to think about.  Especially when I look at how earnestly I'm holding my sticker art, like I'm all proud of it and I really had fun even though almost no one came to my party. 

And then.  There is this -- possibly the saddest, yet most uproariously hilarious, photo ever taken:

This was spring break, fourth grade; my family road tripped in our Chevy Malibu Classic up to Washington, DC, to see the cherry blossoms.  My brother was in eighth grade, and as you can see he was Too Cool for the whole thing.  As I recall, he chose to spend much of the trip in a comic book shop near our hotel while the rest of us visited the Smithsonian and the various memorials.  We both had Members Only jackets, and I think you can see which one of us really knew how to WEAR a Members Only jacket.  As one person said when they saw this photo, "Craig looks like a rock star, and Meredith looks like the biggest freak in the world."

I'm not sure what else is going on with my outfit here, but the best I can guess is that, between my getting dressed that morning and this photo being taken, my limbs spontaneously grew about six inches.  Also, those are fluorescent pink socks I'm wearing, and I can tell you that I had on white cleats with them.  I had stopped playing soccer a couple of years before, but for some reason I HAD to have cleats instead of sneakers.  Those glasses were about ten sizes too small for my face, even as they eclipsed half of my head.  Oh, and I did have hair; it was just pulled back in a ponytail, which I apparently did not realize made me look like a boy. 

When I tell people that I was really awkward and not tremendously attractive or popular as a kid, they don't seem to grasp the magnitude of gawkiness that was really at play here (not that I'm a beauty queen now, but you know what I mean).  If given the opportunity, I show them this photo, and the usual reaction is for the person to clutch it to their chest for a moment and say, "OH.  Oh, gosh."  At least one friend of mine cried when she saw it.  Then they really understand where I'm coming from.  And now you can, too. 

A Change of Plans

Our Christmas jaunt to Seattle to be with my family did not go as planned.

We got up yesterday morning at 5:30 to head to the Newark airport, and as soon as I woke up I knew I did not feel right.  My back was all jacked up -- in addition to lower back pain, my upper back has started to get into the act, especially when I lean forward; I guess this is somehow related to my ribs expanding, and...OUCH -- and I felt a bit nauseous and my belly was all tight.  I figured I was just dehydrated and pounded some water while I hurried to get ready. 

By the time we got to New Jersey, the situation had not improved.  I was incredibly uncomfortable and starting to panic at the thought of being strapped into an airline seat at 35,000 feet for more than six hours while feeling that way.  I'd been to the doctor on Monday (the glucose drink, by the way, really does taste like that flat orange drink from McDonald's -- it was not something I'd want to have every day, but it wasn't truly horrifying), and she was fine with me traveling so long as I was feeling fine, but she said if I had any belly tightness on the flight or when we landed, I should go to the hospital to get checked out immediately upon arrival. Better to be safe, and all of that.

Being on the receiving end of cervical exams wasn't really on my list of Christmasy things to do in Seattle and I knew that getting on the plane while ALREADY feeling unwell was going to mean many stressy, miserable hours.  And, by the way, the lines at Newark were INSANE, and by the time we got even close to checking our bags (and that was after already checking in online the day before), it was clear we were going to have to perform some kind of Jedi mind trick on the TSA to get them to let us jump the MILES LONG security line, and even then we'd have to SPRINT for our plane.

It was one of those times when you have to make a major decision in a split second, and Joe and I had agreed days before that if I felt even the slightest bit off, we wouldn't fly because neither of us needs the mental anguish (he's always SO calm and SO reassuring when I am freaking out or, you know, getting cervical exams in L&D, but of course inside he's quickly growing an ulcer, inasmuch as this is his baby, too).  So while he was pushing us to check in and saying it would be fine, I said, you know, I just don't think I can do this.  I didn't feel well enough and I know myself well enough to know the mental anguish I would go through, worrying about the baby and the TIGHT BELLY and everything else.  And while it kills me to miss a big family Christmas, my eyes are on March and all it promises to bring us.  Which is absolutely everything.

So I had some weepy conversations with my mom and I am terribly disappointed about the whole thing, but I think it was the right thing to do.  I spent the day drinking buttloads of Evian and laying on the couch with my feet up, knowing I could call my doctor if I needed to, and everything seems to be back to normal.  The baby gave me some good rib-kicks to remind me that she's cool and happy with the calm day of non-travel.

And all is not lost, as my parents swiftly changed their travel plans and will be coming here on the 27th and staying with us through New Year's Day, so we still get some family time and game nights and a little holiday feasting.  Also, the two of us wrapped our gifts for each other yesterday and, lo and behold, we have quite a lot of presents to open even by ourselves.  So yay for that!  We'll be ok. 

And no one's flight to Seattle had to be diverted to Milwaukee because of a panicky pregnant woman.

To close, I posted this questionnaire last year, except I've made some changes.  In any event, I think it's a fun way to usher in the holiday.  I love hearing about people's Christmas traditions, so please steal it and post it on your site so I can come see how y'all celebrate!

Merry Christmas to all (even if you don't observe Christmas, I wish you a merry day!), and I'll be back in a couple days to trade notes about loot -- I can't wait to hear what was under your tree! 

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?

I can't say with certainty that I have ever had egg nog, although I like the concept of it and I like egg nog lattes.  This year, obviously, egg nog is out, so I'll have to go with hot chocolate.  Although in practice I very seldom drink hot beverages because I'm thirsty 99% of the time, and only something nice and cold can help me with that. 

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?

Santa does neither.  Santa places unwrapped presents in the stockings, which are hung on the mantle (although if adults have stockings, then the gifts in them are wrapped; these days, we have gone to a kids-only stockings practice).  Larger gifts from Santa are placed in front of the hearth.  Gifts to and from family members -- which are distinct from those from Santa -- are wrapped and get placed under the tree on Christmas Eve, and then I arrange them in an aesthetically pleasing fashion while my mom says, "I thought we were cutting BACK this year!"  (EVERY YEAR.)   

3. Colored or white lights?

WHITE AND ONLY WHITE.  No exceptions.

4. Do you hang mistletoe?

No. 

5. When do you put your decorations up?

It sort of varies; usually the first or second week in December.  I don't have much in the way of decorations other than the tree, the new Danish elf and carved Santa, and the angel chimes.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?

I am a big fan of the turkey dinner with all the trimmings, especially the mashed potatoes and stuffing.  Starch.  STAAARCH!

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child?

Oh, that's a tough one.  My parents did so much to make Christmas special that I pretty much remember each one distinctly, and it's hard to preference one over another.  I was just as enthusiastic about the life-sized Annie doll my mom made one year as I was about our surprise trip to Epcot another.  Mostly I love the memory of all the traditions we had, and the immense feeling of anticipation every Christmas Eve that kept me from getting to sleep and compelled me to wake everyone up at 5am on Christmas morning, just aching to run downstairs to see what awaited us all. 

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?

I don't remember how old I was, maybe fifth or sixth grade, but I think some kid at school was going around making fun of people who still believed in Santa (this had happened in third grade as well, but the kid was quickly shouted down; this time, there was enough of a critical mass in the other direction that the rumor sort of took), so I went home and asked my mom about it.  She said something along the lines of Santa being part of the spirit of Christmas and the magical feeling of the holiday, and even though there wasn't a man coming down the chimney, per se, we could still hold onto the wonder of Christmas no matter how old we got. 

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

NO.  NO NO NO NO NO.  It would lead to CHAOS.  And ANARCHY.  And the END OF DAYS.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?

White lights, and lots of them; some plain metallic balls (hee); some lace angels; and a small but growing collection of ornaments we've gotten since we got married.  At some point I will have to bogart some of my childhood ornaments from my mom -- and of course make new ones with our kiddo -- because the tree needs a little handmade touch to look right.

11. Snow. Love it or dread it?

Love it!  Until it gets all sloshy and disgusting and filled with dog pee.

12. Can you ice skate?

I can stand up and move forward on skates, but I can't do anything fancy and I am generally guaranteed at least one dramatic fall on my kiester per ice skating outing.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?

Again, it's hard to choose.  The adoption doll my mom made me, the Annie doll, an antique German dollhouse, the trip to Epcot, a bike, Breyer horses -- I got a lot of good loot growing up!  Never did get the puppy I always asked for, though...

14. What is the most important thing about the holidays for you?

Getting together with family and remembering the spiritual significance of Christmas.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert?

Just about anything involving pumpkin, although since I got married we usually have Carvel cake for dessert because Joe's AND my sister-in-law's birthdays are on Christmas Day!

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?

I love sitting and looking at the tree, which sounds stupid and lame, but there it is.  I also like how we open presents:  we go around one by one, read the little clue that the giver puts on each gift and then open it.  It's very orderly and calm and makes the gift-opening last longer.  As a kid, I also loved sitting at the top of the stairs while my mom went down and plugged in the tree lights and my dad got dressed and my brother tried to squeeze in a little more sleep, and then we'd all go downstairs together and see what Santa brought, then we'd have a little snacky breakfast and then go sit by the tree to open all those gifts.  Again, it was all very orderly and ritualistic and I LOVED IT.

17. What tops your Christmas tree?

I haven't found just the right angel tree topper, so right now it's a star.

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving?

I love giving gifts, especially if I can pull off a great surprise or find something really perfect for someone.  I do like getting gifts, too, because I am lucky enough to have family and friends who are really good gift-picker-outers.

19. What is your favorite Christmas song?

It's hard to narrow down, but what pops to mind would be:  Nat King Cole's "Christmas Song"; Josh Groban's "O Holy Night" and "The First Noel" (shut up!); and Sarah McLachlan's "River."   

20. Candy Canes. Yum or Yuck?

Eh.  I'm not wild about peppermint.

21. What do you want for Christmas?

Nothing much in particular this year, I have to say, but I'm excited to see what I get nonetheless!

22. Do you attend an annual Christmas party?

We have a "holiday gathering" at work, which I usually try to avoid.  That's it.  I think it would be fun to host a little holiday something, but it's hard to schedule with people traveling for Christmas or whatever, so it hasn't happened.

23. Do you dress up for Christmas Eve or wear PJs?

If we go to church, we wear decent clothes but not, like, ball gowns or anything, and then we pretty much RACE to get into sweats after that.  No one in my family really wears PJs in the technical sense.  There are no union suits or flannels or anything.  Also, when I was growing up I was always CONVINCED that the house would burn down or someone would break in and steal all of our Christmas gifts while we were at church.

24. Do you own a Santa hat?

Just one for the dog!  Hee.

25. Who do you normally spend Christmas with?

My parents and usually my brother and his family (though this has been spotty in the past couple of years because of people moving and blah blah blah).  This year was supposed to be the big family Christmas we'd all been missing.  FAIL.