Lawyerish

Stuffed

Now THAT was what I call a holiday.  No rushing around, packing or unpacking, sitting in airports or cars, but rather sleeping in (8:30 some days!  How crazy are we?), taking long walks, eating loads of good food, watching movies and doing some leisurely online shopping.  It would have been greatly enhanced if our guests could have made it, but Allison and I had to make do with exchanging frequent text messages and emails. 

Our Thanksgiving feast turned out pretty much spot-on, including my inaugural attempt at pan gravy (I usually rely on, uh, Heinz to provide the gravy) and of course the leftover casserole has been brilliant, and OH, how I will weep when it's all gone tonight.  I also would HIGHLY recommend this dessert, which is as good straight out of the fridge on days 2 and 3 as it was warm from the oven on TG day proper.  I think it even beats Paula Deen's Gooey Pumpkin Butter Cakes, although to be sure I think I would have to do a side-by-side comparison.  

We played some Scrabble, watched "Love, Actually" and "White Christmas" and ventured out for some Black Friday shopping, although we left the house well after noon and didn't go to any major retailers other than the Gap and J Crew, so we didn't exactly uncover any great deals (seriously, there was NOTHING on sale at J Crew, wth?  Not that I can fit into any of their clothes at the moment, but still), but we perused a holiday market and the Scandinavia House shop and the Time Warner Center and bought ourselves some exciting stuff like kitchen towels.  Then we came home and shopped online for actual gifts for other people. 

Speaking of which, I remain uninspired for a Wow Gift for anyone, but especially for Joe.  Last year I got him a Keurig, which was pretty much the best gift ever since he uses it at LEAST once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY, and absolutely loves the convenience of it and the many delicious coffees that he can try in K-Cup form.  For our anniversary (I think?), I got him a wee Canon digital camera, which also gets a great deal of use, and I'd gotten him a Flip video camerasome time ago that he will FINALLY get to play with come March (there's really not much to film until the baby enters the mix).  And of course there have been clothes, books, DVDs, assorted vintagey memorabilia (Stork Club ashtray, framed post card from Jack Dempsey's, that sort of thing) -- and, a couple of years ago, the gift certificates for a session with a famous running coach and a training session at Gleason's boxing gym, both of which I was so smug about yet which NEVER GOT USED (am still bitter), but this year there's nothing jumping out at me. 

He ALWAYS manages to get me an awesome Wow Gift (trip to Mexico, trip to see Allison, my DSLR, first edition of "To Kill a  Mockingbird"), and I feel like I never measure up (though one could argue that this year I'm trumping all other paltry gifts with, you know, CARRYING HIS CHILD, but that's such a cop-out).  So, I don't know.  I have some ideas floating around but nothing that makes me go, oh, YEAH, that's IT!  Fleh.

Yesterday I went for my maternity massage at the Mandarin Oriental, and it was appropriately blissful, such that I almost MELTED out of there.  I also got a haircut at a salon I hadn't been to before, and the guy basically told me I have been doing EVERYthing wrong vis-a-vis my hair, which is why it has been looking like dog poo for some time now -- specifically, I have been brushing it before it's dry (causing breakage and damage) and not embracing my natural curl by scrunching it and/or using a diffuser.  Well, I walked out of there with BIG TIME CURLY HAIR, as is evidently now its natural state (I always thought of it as more wavy than anything else, but nay, it is CURLY).  It will take some getting used to, but if it stops looking frizzy and DEAD, I guess I will learn to love it.

And today we went to the Met to check out the Vermeers and the Robert Frank exhibit, along with about eighty million of our closest friends.  What is it that makes people want to get so CLOSE to the art, I want to know?  In the Vermeer room, it's like they were trying to LICK the paintings.  (Joe:  "It's not a scratch-n-sniff!") 

Anyway, that was our Thanksgiving weekend in a nutshell.  We have now put out a few Christmas items to kick off the holiday season.  Since we're going to Seattle for Christmas, I'm not sure if we'll get a big tree, but obviously we need SOME form of cheer up in here.  I am going for an Olde Worlde sort of thing, it seems, with the carved Santa (we found this woman at a flea market who makes Santas, and this one was of course the biggest and most expensive one, and I LOVE HIM and his sad face), the Swedish angel chimes and the Danish elf. 

I have also been having strange urges to throw a Christmas party involving a cookie exchange and a Yankee swap.  Is this a nesting instinct kicking in?  It's so odd.  Instead, maybe I will see if I can actually manage to write, address and send my Christmas cards before January this year.  Turn over a new leaf and all.  Ambitious, this. 

Let the Face-Stuffing Commence!

Boy howdy, am I looking forward to Thanksgiving.  For the food, of course, but mostly for the Four! Days! Off!  This little break could not come at a more desperately needed time.  I plan to spend those blissful four days cooking, eating, lazing about, reading, watching whatever cheesy movie strikes my fancy (I feel a "Love, Actually" viewing coming on, and perhaps some "Elf") and quietly panicking over the proximity of Christmas and my utter lack of ideas for gifts for absolutely anyone. 

There may also be some tentative venturing out for shopping to allay said Christmas gift panic; but it's just as likely that any foray into the horror of Thanksgiving-weekend crowds will send me racing back to the couch to do my present-perusing online.  Oh, and I have a maternity massage booked at the Mandarin Oriental, about which I am incredibly excited even though I won't get to enjoy the spa's Heat Experience (enormous hot tub and sauna) this time.  On the up side, however, this means I won't have to endure the mental anguish of whether it's weird that I wear a bathing suit into said hot tub/sauna (many women, um, don't) or whether I might experience a sudden head rush upon exiting the Heat Experience, thereby adding a Fainting Experience to the otherwise blissfully relaxing spa day.

This holiday will be just the two of us (which reminds me, I loathe the phrase "a deux"; it reminds me of Cosmo magazine and Danielle Steel novels -- they're always talking about showering "a deux" and the like, blergh), thanks to the jacked-up airline prices that have prohibited Allison and family from joining us (boo, BOOOOOOO).  It's disappointing, but in the end we've got to soldier on.  We've gotten pretty good at the just-the-two-of-us thing, and this way I can serve dinner in my sweats from a bunch of pans on the stove instead of putting together a pretty table and a passable family-style or buffet meal for guests (not that Allison, David and Maggie would judge or that I would MIND, of course, and we would definitely ALL be in our sweats anyhow and it would be SUPER FUN; I'm just trying to look for the bright side, here, and you know what I mean). 

Incidentally, my Thanksgiving spread is something of a Symphony of Beige, Starchy Foods.  In addition to the turkey, which I plan to brine with whatever brining materials Whole Foods has to offer, and gravy, I will be serving

-- buttermilk mashed potatoes (if the entire meal had to be reduced to one dish, this would be my keeper);

-- stuffing (a fairly basic concoction of bagged Pepperidge Farm stuffing, celery, mushrooms, onions, spices, chicken broth and about a pound of butter; I may add some pancetta if I'm feeling kicky -- and, by the way, this year I'm not stuffing the bird thanks to yet another of Baby*Center's hysterical emails about Thanksgiving Foods YOU WILL DIE IF YOU EAT, sigh);

-- peas (a nod to the green vegetable family, even though, I know, it's technically a legume);

-- homemade cranberry sauce (I'm using Ree's super-simple recipe this year, although I'll probably throw in some Craisins and a few spices to jazz it up a little);

-- rolls (Pillsbury Crescent, baby -- what, do some people actually, like, MAKE THEIR OWN?  madness!); and

-- for dessert, pumpkin crisp (hold me) with, uh, Cool Whip (judge not!).

Can you tell I am something of a low-effort cook?  Middlebrow cooking, man, that is the name of my game.  If we were having more than two (and a half!) people, I'd probably throw in some jazzier dishes, like my aunt's crazy-delicious sweet potato casserole and perhaps homemade instead of from-a-bag stuffing and a pie of some kind; but since the meal still takes about 500 hours to prepare and about eight minutes to consume, I am happy with my approach.  And it tastes really freaking good, however basic. 

This meal is also a gift that keeps on giving in the form of my family's patented Post-Thanksgiving Casserole, which I have mentioned here before but must reiterate now that if you haven't tried it, you should:  before putting away any of your leftovers, get out a 9x13 baking dish.  Spread a layer of stuffing on the bottom of said dish, then a layer of bite-sized turkey pieces, then a layer of peas, a smattering of gravy, and finally a nice, fat top layer of mashed potatoes.  Throw some foil over that bad boy and toss it in the fridge.  The following (several) night(s), put some pats of butter on the top and stick in the oven at 375 for maybe 45 min to an hour, uncovered, then enjoy with a fresh sprinkling of salt (and maybe some more butter).

OH, it is so delicious.  Like a big Thanksgiving shepherd's pie of yumminess.  Also, it burns up the majority of the leftovers, such that you don't end up with 5,000 Tupperware containers junking up your fridge (although we ALWAYS have about 50 lbs of turkey left even post-casserole).  Now I'm all a-quiver in anticipation of all the eating that's going to go on in a few days.  Mmm.  Food-centric holidays.  Yes!

Finally, I have recently incorporated Brisk Power-Walking (complete with vigorous arm-swinging and, I'm sure, a ridiculous-looking gait, though not as ridiculous-looking as those hip-swiveling Speed Walkers) into my fitness routine.  Running is still fair game as well, but by about Mile 3 of a (slow, waddly) run, it feels like the baby is clinging to my bladder for dear life, which sends me hurrying back to the apartment with a stricken look on my face since the peeing facilities are few and far between in Central Park.  This situation is much less dire when walking, although I can't give up my jogs altogether because, frankly, I miss it.  (I imagine by month 8 or so, I will be happy to stick with walking, if I can even accomplish that.) 

I also have this prenatal fitness DVD, which is a surprisingly vigorous workout that nearly left me without the use of my legs for several days after the first time I tried it.  There's only so much squatting that one can do before things start to break down.  And I still 30-Day Shred on occasion, although I have eliminated Level 3 from the rotation, because no, Jillian, I am not doing jumping jacks with my weights, thankyouverymuch.  Plus, Supermans on a big belly?  Not happening. 

I may pop back in with another post before the holiday, but if not, I hope each and every one of you has a wonderful, restful, food-coma-inducing Thanksgiving!

Sick Day in the City

6:30am  Get up after near-sleepless night, thanks to crampiness/round ligament pain that, around 3am, was somehow easily confused with labor pain and the conviction that WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.  Wallow in lingering paranoia resulting from nightmares about preterm labor at 22 weeks and related horrors. 

6:35am  Walk dog; dog nearly eaten by passing Jack Russell terriers. 

6:41am  Obsessively Google "cramping second trimester."  Internet consensus favors ligament pain/uterine expansion.

6:45am  Brush teeth, put in contacts, blow nose 45 times, nearly hack up lung into sink.  Remember subway hobo's admonishment to stay home when sick.  Resolve to follow more subway hobo advice.

6:52am  Drink approximately 3 gallons of Evian; eat Balance Bar to stave off post-prenatal vitamin nausea.

7:02am  Stretch; watch in dull fascination as GMA interviews people who have lined up for Sarah Palin book signings.

7:14am  Take warm shower.  Wonder if nighttime pain ever actually existed in the first place or if it was imagined entirely.  Contemplate use of long-ago purchased but never-used body pillow from now on.  Tell mental spiral of anxiety to shut the hell up.

7:35am  Play Cat Stevens for baby with iPod headphones on belly.  Watch baby's kicks from outside.  Wonder if baby is irritated by piped-in music.

7:54am  Listen to roar and crash of trash collection, blare of horns from cars stuck behind trash collection truck.  Another restful New York morning.

8:26am  Construction begins on neighboring building; cacophony of clanging, shouting, drilling and jackhammering will continue for remainder of day. 

9:14am  Arrange self on couch with Kleenex, laptop, water and pets.  Dog takes ten hours to get settled in just the right spot; cat kneads claws in hair. 

10:02am  FedEx guy buzzes; cat jumps onto head, dog races around barking like maniac.

10:16am  Hammering, sirens. 

10:52am  Dog has to go out. 

11:15am  Wonder if day spent napping under desk in quiet office would have been more restful. 

Catching Up

Well!  That was a hellaciously busy several weeks.  This was the first weekend I've had off in...I don't even know how long.  But I somehow made it through, and now I'm back.  So.  Hello!  What have I missed?  Y'all haven't missed much of anything around here; I have no winning anecdotes or witty bon mots to show for my time away, so instead I will ramble in a rambly fashion.  The usual, basically.

1.  As much as it pains me to say this, I am wholly underwhelmed by this season of "So You Think You Can Dance."  I think it's too soon, honestly; the awesomeness that was Brandon and Kayla and Kuponu, et al, is too fresh, and this motley blend of too-old, too-smug, too-cheesy and too-immature dancers has no hope of comparing.  Also, the choreography has been feh at best, and even the change of the stage set-up, which appears to have been inspired by Vegas and cruise ship aesthetics, irks me.  Oh, I'll keep watching, of course, because I can't be kept away, but I won't LIKE it.

2.  I finally got the H1N1 vaccine last Friday, after weeks of chasing down every lead I could find on where to get the damn thing.  Apparently I said the magic words at my internist's office and they gave it to me, even after having claimed over the phone that they'd already run out.  This saved me from having to stand on line for probably eight hours at one of the walk-in clinics that opened up to pregnant women over the weekend, or having to go to a sketchy community health center where I had an appointment for later in the month.  It has also saved me untold weeks of agita, since I was plenty paranoid about the stupid swine flu, thanks to the ever-alarmist media and the climbing statistics of dead/ventilator-dependent expectant moms. 

3.  Evidently bums are not immune to swine flu hysteria, either.  A couple of weeks ago, I had a cold, complete with prolific mucus production and a barking cough (but no fever or pig-like symptoms).  I had little choice but to soldier on since I was in the midst of a big Work Thing, but I took every precaution to keep from spreading it around to everyone else.  Anyway, I was on the subway headed home one evening and I DARED to emit a slight cough, which I covered with a tissue to protect my fellow commuters.  A rather raggedy guy who was seated about seven feet away from me got up and started yelling, "This bitch SICK.  Bitch be COUGHIN'.  Stay HOME when you sick.  DAMN."  He went on for a good ten minutes in this vein.  Uh...sorry?

4.  I think I may have entered a slightly more...dynamic emotional phase of my pregnancy.  Or else I have been a bit overtired and prone to mood swings.  I'm not sure yet.  Regardless, I had a slight emotional breakdown the other day (also on the subway, where apparently half of my life plays out) when...um..."A New Day" came on my iPod.  Yes.  Celine Dion did me in.  Because a NEW DAY HAS COME.  And I have WAITED SO LONG FOR A MIRACLE, and now where there was darkness THERE'S LIGHT.  And so on.  Then, this weekend I happened upon "Juno" on one of the movie channels, and even though I've seen it before and had a fairly neutral reaction to it, this time I couldn't tear myself away, and then she gave BIRTH and Jennifer Garner HAD A SON and it was all too much because we're going to have a BABY OMG.  Wah.  (But in a good way).   

And then yesterday I worked myself into a STATE because we went out and bought a baby sling, and then we got it home and it was too small for either of us (dude, it was like a CHOKER, and it was a size MEDIUM).  You can see how upsetting that is.  Even thought we can just, you know, EXCHANGE IT next weekend.

5.  The belly!  It has grown.  Here's a progression from the last...I don't know, month or so.  I am terrible about keeping track of exactly when I took the pictures; but I think this is week 17 (or maybe 18), then week 19(ish), then week 21 (which I know for sure since I just took it yesterday):

 

6.  Among the dumber things that people have said to me:  "Wow, I can really see the weight gain in your face!"  (Gosh, thanks!  And in fact, I think my face is one of the few places you CAN'T see it, so that's just plain INACCURATE as well as rude).  "Whoa, you got BIG."  (Always a welcome observation.) 

Also, several people who seem to have made certain assumptions based on our initial, ill-fated decision to give adoption a (no) go have piped up with, "See, you just needed to relax!" or some comment about how they knew someone who adopted and then got pregnant despite fertility struggles or what have you.  SIGH.  You know, sometimes people just CHOOSE TO TRY TO ADOPT.  Revolutionary.

7.  Apropos of nothing:  a pretty pretty sunset, as seen from our kitchen window.

The Answer

I'm lying on the table in the dimly lit room, watching the grainy images on the screen. 

She goes slowly, starting with the head -- a nice profile shot of a perfectly round, Charlie Brown-like noggin, then a straight-on skullface ("they all look like that!" she says when we snicker at its ghoulishness); then she does a cross-section of the jaw and teeth, showing us that the baby has a fully formed palate; then the heart, thrumming along at 148 bpm -- we can see all four chambers, working valves, and the aortic arch; the diaphragm; the long bony chain of the spine with ribs arcing out to the sides; the kidneys, two dark spots in the ether alongside the spine; the blood flow of the umbilical cord, highlighted in blue and red; the legs, feet and hands with all the fingers and toes; the tibia and fibula, radius and ulna.  Everything looks perfect. 

And then, finally, she lines up the shot from underneath, with the baby's legs bent and splayed a bit -- the shot we've been waiting almost 20 weeks to see.

Tech:  Now, what do you see?

Me:  ???  (seriously, not a CLUE what I was looking at)

Joe:  I see...nothing?

Tech:  That's exactly right.  Clear as day, there's nothing there.

Me:  {blink....blink...blinkblinkblink}

Me:  So...

Joe:  It's...a girl?! 

Me {sitting up a bit}:  Are we 100% sure about this?

Tech:  You've got a double-X here, unless that's a boy without a penis!

Me:  !!!

Tech:  You can go out and buy all the pink you want -- it's clear as day. 

I'm still stunned.  We'll be halfway to babyville on Thursday (the time, it FLIES), and I can hardly believe any of it is happening, despite all the evidence that yes, really, it IS. 

We're having a baby.  A daughter.  A baby daughter!

Craziness.

(Belly shots and the like to come; things have been insane lately but I should be getting my life back in the next couple of weeks, hoo to the rah.)