Baby Hungry, Baby Delicious

Every week I get an email from an infant formula company updating me on my baby's growth at his week of gestation. At first, he was as big as a pomegranate seed, then a grape. Later he was about the size of a small peach, then an orange.

They have to know what they're doing to the minds of me and pregnant women all over the country. Because my pregnancy has left me craving tart fruit and I am very susceptible to the power of suggestion, I can't but help feel the impressions of all these delicious fruits that are the same size as my baby. When I was sick with the stomach flu awhile back, the baby was about the size of a large grapefruit. And you know? Grapefruit was all I wanted to eat. Kevin was skeptical that it was the right sick food, but it was, and I ate the whole thing in about 10 minutes after not eating anything for days.

Last week the email said the baby is the size of a little pineapple. Can you guess what delicious fruit I've been craving all week? I'm thinking of nicknaming the baby "Little Pineapple."

October Crafts

I don't have a lot of time or skill for crafts, but occasionally, sitting at a computer all day gets to me and I want to get around to actually doing something. So, this is something that's like my kind of craft.

Should I tell you the supplies cost me $4 and it took about four minutes to make? Hmmm. Wouldn't want to destroy the mystique... if there is any.

A couple of weeks ago, I borrowed a hat knitting kit from a friend of a friend. I signed up with a Christian group to knit hats for the homeless, so I decided to make these youth hats. I've also made a couple of baby hats (one pictured on the right) for keeping or giving away. It feels good to actually *make* something for service with my hands, and it works very well for making me feel like I can get something done while I unwind.

Fall in Big Cottonwood Canyon

This photo doesn't do the leaves justice, but it's the reddish-orange ones I love the most. A perfect drive.

Sleeping Lessons

I've been playing this video over and over because I don't own it, but I love it. Maybe it's my pensive October mood, or just a feeling that I get from all of the contention out there, particularly the will so many have to dominate over others to build themselves up. But I've been thinking a lot about this, and I love the power in this song.

Sleeping Lessons (The Shins)

Go without,
Till the need seeps in
You low animal,
Collect your novel petals for the stem.

And glow.
Glow.
Melt and flow.
Eviscerate your fragile frame.
And spill it out on ragged floor.
A thousand different versions of yourself.

And if the old guards still offend,
They got nothing left on which you depend.
So enlist every ounce
Of your bright blood.
And off with their heads.

Jump from the hook.
You're not obliged to swallow anything you despise.
See, those unrepenting buzzards want your life,
And they got no right.
As sure as you have eyes,
They got no right.

Just put yourself in my new shoes.
And see that I do all I do.
Because the old guard still offends.
(Their pudgy hearts and slimy hands)
They got nothing left on which we depend.
So enlist every ounce
Of your bright blood.
And off with their heads.

Jump from the hook.
You're not obliged to swallow anything you despise,
That you despise.

25 Weeks

Here y'all go. (This is a different door, btw. Not that I would care about a thing like that.)

Total Eclipse of the Kitties

So I first took this picture because the cats are so cuddly with each other now that it's getting colder. But after viewing the photos, I realized it just looks like they should be cast in this terrible '80s video. Or, for something fun, try the literal version.

Turn around, bright eyes. Oh, and Aja's bum is shaped like a heart.

Noticing

Tonight I walked to our large park for my evening exercise. My hip and IT band have been giving me grief lately, signaling that I need to stop running until I buy a new pair of shoes. So, I donned my old running shoes and went walking instead.

After making my lap around the park, I decided to try out the swings. I was there, under an elm, my feet able to touch the high branches, looking at Mt. Olympus and Twin Peaks sheathed in the first snow, golden and shining in the glow of the sunset. The air was crisp, and my fingers started to feel numb with cold, but I kept swinging. These were the same mountains I'd look up at from my backyard swings growing up, as I would decompress the day by swinging and listening to my walkman.

As I swung tonight, I listened to my "Good Earth" playlist on my ipod - a playlist of folk songs. I felt this cool air. Autumn air has always made me feel that the mountains are speaking to me. As the breeze comes from the canyons, carrying the scent of leaves, pine, and campfires, it signals the turn of the season. I thought about the things that I'm putting away from summer, and looked forward to autumn:

• In summer I was running most days; now I will take more time for yoga and pilates
  
• In summer I spent time in my garden; now I'll spend time reading novels
  
• In summer I spent more time teaching; now I'll spend more time meditating
  
• In summer I ate fresh tomatoes every day; now I'll give myself leave to turn to comfort foods, such as zucchini bread and sweet potato pie

I think that this autumn is really a time for noticing miracles. Loved ones in my life are healthy and strong. Starting this weekend, the baby now has more than a 50/50 chance of survival after birth. The other night Kevin put his hand on my stomach and felt our baby move for the first time. To see the look on Kevin's face as father's gentle hand met son's little body through my abdomen reminded me what an astounding process new life is.

It's a great season.

The National Parks on PBS

It's great fun to take a break from grading and settle down with some pie. We turned on the TV to find a rebroadcast of this program on KUED. I'd meant to catch it over the weekend, but got a little too busy for it. How cool is it when TV does not disappoint?

Peaceful Equinox

To celebrate the last day of summer, I went running during the beautiful and cool evening. This was followed by a sweet kiss in the driveway as we watched this sunset and took inventory of our summer roses that are still in bloom.

The equinox seems significant this year. I'll enter this dark half of the year and emerge at the next equinox quite changed with a new addition to my life. There's something very grounding and earthy about pregnancy that places me and my body with the seasons. That inspires a certain trust in time and the process of nature. So while I see summer slipping away before my eyes, I can look ahead to wondrous events and know that, in only a few blinks of an eye, golden rays will again paint the sky and touch the roses in my garden.

Rainbow on Grandeuer Peak

This was the view out my living room window last night when I arrived from work. I love how even buried in this neighborhood - not even on the benches - I can see the storms on the mountains that tell me summer is coming to an end. Isn't it amazing that with all of our modern distractions and occupations, nature can still speak to us in ways that have been appreciated by our ancestors for thousands, if not millions, of years?

20-21 Weeks

I've officially reached the half-way mark! They usually count this at 20 weeks, when they can identify the gender and when the baby gains more recognition medically and more rights legally (in many ways he's already considered a little person). However, we all know that the first two weeks of pregnancy are pre-conception, so I'd like to say that now at 21 weeks I've made it half way.

I've been wanting to write this for a while, but I got sick and everything had to go on hold. I'm feeling better now and getting my strength (as well as my nutrients and fluids) back, so here you go. For over a month I've been able to feel the little guy squirming around in there, which I hear is a little early for a first-timer. Strangers are starting to notice my belly, and I have realized a protective hand on the stomach does wonders to confirm their suspicions (and hopefully keep their hands away).

So, to celebrate this half-way mark, here's my first belly pic. It may not look like much, but when I visually measure from my belly button to my back, there is definitely something taking up a lot of space already. Here's to hoping I can keep up the routines of working, teaching, walking, and running for many weeks more.

Baby Feet

Little feet and toes for our healthy baby boy! Yes, we still have to wait until January to meet him.

Green Zebras, Brandywines, Celebrities, Hamsons

When I had said I'd eat caprese every night for dinner, I didn't know how true that would be. Our garden is packed with tomatoes! We finished this bowl up tonight, and we've got another one overflowing.

Anyone up for a few delicious heirlooms?

Backyard

Didn't mean to squirt the praying mantis with the power nozzle.
Of course I divert the water elsewhere
And watch with admiration
As she determinedly crawls back atop the echinacea.

I turn off the faucet and rest on the porch step.
That aspen, straight ahead in the back, has grown
Slender, and straight.

One cricket starts up. I always hear the first one cricket.
Another in echo, then in unison
Hailing the twilight.

A forehead, gently pushed against my knee
I reach down to scratch her neck.
She rolls on to her back, exposing her massive belly.
I run my fingers through that long, soft, teddy bear fur
She purrs a quiet humming, complete in the moment.

My neighbor has family over
A pleasant, happy gathering.
I think about a friend who might as well be next door
Or on the other side of the world.

The stillness sets in, each sound distinct.
I take a sip of peach and grapefruit soda—tart and sweet—
And put the can to my cheek for the fizz,
A million bubbles breaking at the surface
Extending the moment.

Personal Rituals

Last weekend, Kevin and I made our traditional trip to the Utah Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City. This is the largest, longest-standing tradition in our marriage, and when I was back to work, I felt a sense of loss that the trip had been completed. With a baby due before then, I'm not sure if seeing plays next year will be feasible (and there's a great line up of plays too).

This trip is more meaningful than just seeing plays. It's about visiting a city that's familiar to Kevin, and has become familiar to me too. It's honoring the grave of someone close to both of us. And it's about completing our yearly ritual of visiting a group of bristlecone pine trees to privately inventory our hopes and wishes, and draw on the strength of these old-soul trees to carry our wishes through tough times. This got me thinking about rituals we do as individuals, couples, friends, and families.

A ritual differs from a tradition in that it contains some level of ceremony, even if it's a small amount. A ritual is an action that is somewhat meaningless in itself, but given the ceremony, this common action takes on special meaning that, when coupled with our own willingness, has the ability to change us and our perception of reality. The magic in ritual comes only from our willingness to let it work changes in us. Otherwise, it's merely an empty act.

I know many of you have religious rituals. Temple attendance, baptisms, weddings, the sacrament/Eucharist, fasting/Lent. These are often initiated by institutions, depending on what religion you subscribe to. What I'm curious about are other rituals you perform outside of those prescribed by your religion. Ones that were invented by you, your family, your friends. The little intimate rituals that come from our humanity, our practice as believing beings, as social beings, as people who like to attach meaning to our actions and visibly show what we feel inside.

For instance, have you ever let a balloon go up into the sky, watching it lift away a burden or care that had been weighing you down? Have you ever lit a candle when a loved one was struggling? Worn a ring or bracelet as a reminder of a promise you made, or your dedication to a cause? Grown a rose bush in someone's memory? Made a yearly pilgrimage to a cemetery? Said a poem that connects you to an experience or individual? Retreated privately into a special spot in the wilderness to pray? Are there ritual words you exchange with the one you love that signify a renewal of your love, be it once a day, a year, or every 10 years?

Beyond Composition

It's 6:00 pm on Tuesday night, and I'm avoiding grading research papers. I've read through the stack, and I have only to match them up to my rubric. What that's done, I'll submit grades, and enjoy the week and a half before class starts again. I've never taught two classes during one 4-month period before while working full time, and it's kept me more than busy (thank you, oh fetus, for not making me too sick to teach). It will be nice to be back to just one long night a week.

People ask me why I do this. The answer is because I think it's what I'm meant to do. In fact, one of the recommended careers for my Myers-Briggs personality type is English teacher. I love mentoring others. I love discussing ideas. It's more satisfying than staring at a cubicle wall, and since I need to have my cubicle job to survive, I also teach on the side.

There's a reason I only need a master's degree to teach my class. The tenure-track professors are bored by general education classes, and even though students pay as much for my class as they do for any other three credits, they can pay faculty with only a master's a lot less to do it. That being said, I love my students. I have some of the hardest-working, sincere students. They know that English is not their best subject, so they come ready to learn. It's fulfilling that way.

But sometimes I dream of something more. Over the weekend, I popped into the bookstore on the SUU campus. I am always tempted to see what other schools are teaching in English, so I went through the shelves. I found a class on coming of age in the Pacific Islands. I found another on the Southwest desert with Wallace Stegner and Terry Tempest Williams, among others. One was a seminar on Willa Cather. But the one I found so intriguing was on graphic novels. They were reading Batman, the Incredible Hulk, America's Greatest Comics, a novel in woodcuts, and a theory book on Reading Pictures. Oh, how I would love to teach (or take!) a class on that. While I loved studying the classics, if I could do it all again, I would dive into the world of excellent contemporary literary art.

You know, I miss that. The exploration. English majors have all the fun.

August Afternoons at Last

When I look at the xeric gardens we have, it's amazing to think they were ever anything but spectacular and huge. I remember this post I did last year when I was very frustrated that my garden was not coming along as I thought it might. Here are the pictures I posted.

Here it is in April 2008:

And in July 2008:

And here it is now (if you look you can see the blue polka-dot chicken):

It's almost in full bloom (the oregano is just starting to flower), but already it's covered in small orange-striped bumble bees.

And, just because a certain 17 lb, 8 oz cat always brightens my day, a garden view (with the other chicken on the far right), and Aja's wide belly.

Why does it look like she's scowling? Well, she's a cat. And I just made fun of her weight.

Idaho Summer

Everything flows, nothing stands still.

You could not step twice into the same river, for other waters are ever flowing on to you. (Herakleitos)

Garden Life

The flowers we have in our garden attract a lot of life—particularly bumble bees and hummingbirds. If we attracted more butterflies, I'd consider the fauna to be about perfect.

I just spent five minutes watching at least six hummingbirds drink and rest in my garden. From nearly the size of an insect to the size of a sparrow, it seems to me a miracle that these birds were created to hover and shift in the ways that they do. I thought about grabbing my camera, but you know, sometimes nature just wants to be observed by the human eye.

Power of Imagination

"Worrying is using your imagination to create something you don't want." - Abraham-Hicks

I feel like I should give this post a warning that it's a little hippie. Hey, I'm in a condition here. A beautiful, natural, healthy condition. I get to be as hippie as I want to be.

Imagination in itself is like a form of creation. I find some major flaws in the philosophy of attraction—despite our best intentions, there are many things we don't control in the universe. So, some ideas I take, and some I leave. Overall, realizing I'm at least in control of my own thoughts has led me to think about the power of imagination and where I invest my energy.

As I think about my pregnancy, about Kevin's new graduate program (accepted, but no public details here) and his new job (still looking), and about all of the transitions we're facing, I'm so grateful for the power of imagination—for being able to think about what I desire and then thanking God for that blessing, even if I haven't received it at this point in time. Because I believe all time is before God, I don't think it's ever too early to feel grateful for something like having a beautiful healthy baby. A strong, sound pregnancy. Career success for Kevin and me.

The Navajos said that nothing was ever created that wasn't first dreamed. What good things are you imagining and creating in your life?