Last week we started monitor-free Mondays, wherein we go without television, computers, and other sit-and-watch type electronic pastimes, one night a week. Here is a report on our second monitor-free evening.
Week 2
We avoided the mutinous stare of our big screen tv by going out to dinner (mmm, cheesy biscuits and blackened fish at Red Lobster). It was nice to eat something other than leftovers. Back home we played with Adam before whisking him off to bath and bed. Then, fearless of Adam's proto-slumbering proximity, David managed to pull out all of the Christmas decoration boxes from our attic in search of his pyramids. Three pyramids, a tablecloth, and a few candle holders made it downstairs, while the haphazard boxes stayed behind, a mess to clean up another day. We rounded out the evening reading; David had his year-end Economist, and I had an interesting article on South African runner (and intersex female) Caster Semenya.
December 01, 2009
November 28, 2009
Blackened
I've never been much of a shopper, and the idea of heading out on Black Friday has never appealed to me. I can't think of anything I want or want to give badly enough to get up before dawn and compete with others just to stand in a long line to buy it. But this year I was asked by a friend to accompany him as he bought gifts for a children's shelter, and I figured, what the heck, you only live once. Adam woke me up before dawn, I dressed, gathered some sustenance (sesame crackers, cheddar cheese, and dark chocolate M&Ms), and hit the road.
We made it to the big box store (which will go unnamed, lest I be forced to go into why I generally refuse to shop there) around 7:15am. The barricades were still up and I had to walk all the way around the building to make it back to the front entrance in time to be told entry was no longer being controlled. Good timing, eh? We enter chaos. There are plenty of shopping carts, but virtually no space within which to maneuver them. The checkout lines literally meander all the way to the back of the store. Staff stand at the end of many aisles and next to any display with easily pocketed merchandise. If anyone has only one item in their cart, it's a big screen tv; otherwise carts are piled high with mostly toys, games, dolls, and electronics. We make a circuit along the outermost aisles, picking up any toy that looks good, and I add one thing for Adam. Together we politely push past confused shoppers, listless children, and more than a few overburdened shopping carts.
At the other side, my friend has the bright idea of asking whether there's a checkout off in the garden section, and sure enough there is. Eureka! The lines are still long there, but the quiet of the space makes it all bearable. No one pushes through us while we wait in line, no tinny music assails our ears, and all we gaze upon are stacks of tastefully boxed holiday decorations. We befriend the two women in front of us, take turns wandering around the madhouse of the main store, and make it through the line in about 35 minutes. Start to finish our early morning shopping venture lasted an hour.
I was so energized I agreed to go for a bit more shopping elsewhere (where crowds were relatively sparse) and then Costco afterward. I know, wow. And Costco was the emptiest I've ever seen it. All in all, an enjoyable morning, and something I never would have predicted.
We made it to the big box store (which will go unnamed, lest I be forced to go into why I generally refuse to shop there) around 7:15am. The barricades were still up and I had to walk all the way around the building to make it back to the front entrance in time to be told entry was no longer being controlled. Good timing, eh? We enter chaos. There are plenty of shopping carts, but virtually no space within which to maneuver them. The checkout lines literally meander all the way to the back of the store. Staff stand at the end of many aisles and next to any display with easily pocketed merchandise. If anyone has only one item in their cart, it's a big screen tv; otherwise carts are piled high with mostly toys, games, dolls, and electronics. We make a circuit along the outermost aisles, picking up any toy that looks good, and I add one thing for Adam. Together we politely push past confused shoppers, listless children, and more than a few overburdened shopping carts.
At the other side, my friend has the bright idea of asking whether there's a checkout off in the garden section, and sure enough there is. Eureka! The lines are still long there, but the quiet of the space makes it all bearable. No one pushes through us while we wait in line, no tinny music assails our ears, and all we gaze upon are stacks of tastefully boxed holiday decorations. We befriend the two women in front of us, take turns wandering around the madhouse of the main store, and make it through the line in about 35 minutes. Start to finish our early morning shopping venture lasted an hour.
I was so energized I agreed to go for a bit more shopping elsewhere (where crowds were relatively sparse) and then Costco afterward. I know, wow. And Costco was the emptiest I've ever seen it. All in all, an enjoyable morning, and something I never would have predicted.
November 25, 2009
Monitor me
This week we began a monitor-free policy for Monday evenings. I had proposed keeping away from all computers and tvs etc one night a week in favor of family time and non-electronic amusements, here on forward. (Sort of a "Kill your TV, Lite".) David immediately agreed. On Sunday I reminded him we couldn't turn to tv or check emails to occupy ourselves the following night, and he said he knew, he was ready. He then indicated that I was the one who might not be able to forgo a bit of email and facebook monitoring, but I assured him this would be no hardship for me. He raised a skeptical brow.
Fast forward to Monday...
Week 1
David calls from work shortly after lunch. It's deader than a doornail there (this being Thanksgiving week) and he's heading home early. When he arrives he puts the laptop out, which I eye suspiciously. He still has work to do. He has a few hours before evening starts, so I let it go. Clock ticks by, we're both busy with baby, chores, making dinner.
The meal is finished and cleaned up. David gets cranky, says he has work he needed to do, that he'll have to do it after I go to bed (apparently this is acceptable to him as it is after family time). Not so fast, I tell him. "You agreed." He's the one who bathes Adam and puts him to sleep, so his time upstairs raises no alarms until it's about 8pm and I realize I've not heard from David in a while, though I notice the laptops are all downstairs. I figure he is curling up with his Economist. Curious, I go up to check and find him reaching to turn out the light and go to bed. Not to read, but to sleep. At 8:15. "But I'm tired." I would have teased him mercilessly if he didn't really look tired. (I felt his pain; we'd had a very long week prior.)
I ask him to keep me company downstairs while I bake some bread, which he does. He curls up on the sofa under several layers of blankets and reads the book I'd gotten for him from the library. I braided a beautiful loaf of bread and waited for it to bake. When we eventually both settled in for sleep, it was with a much quieter mind than I've felt for some time. I call the night a success.
Check in next week for the Monitor-free Monday, Week 2 report.
Fast forward to Monday...
Week 1
David calls from work shortly after lunch. It's deader than a doornail there (this being Thanksgiving week) and he's heading home early. When he arrives he puts the laptop out, which I eye suspiciously. He still has work to do. He has a few hours before evening starts, so I let it go. Clock ticks by, we're both busy with baby, chores, making dinner.
The meal is finished and cleaned up. David gets cranky, says he has work he needed to do, that he'll have to do it after I go to bed (apparently this is acceptable to him as it is after family time). Not so fast, I tell him. "You agreed." He's the one who bathes Adam and puts him to sleep, so his time upstairs raises no alarms until it's about 8pm and I realize I've not heard from David in a while, though I notice the laptops are all downstairs. I figure he is curling up with his Economist. Curious, I go up to check and find him reaching to turn out the light and go to bed. Not to read, but to sleep. At 8:15. "But I'm tired." I would have teased him mercilessly if he didn't really look tired. (I felt his pain; we'd had a very long week prior.)
I ask him to keep me company downstairs while I bake some bread, which he does. He curls up on the sofa under several layers of blankets and reads the book I'd gotten for him from the library. I braided a beautiful loaf of bread and waited for it to bake. When we eventually both settled in for sleep, it was with a much quieter mind than I've felt for some time. I call the night a success.
Check in next week for the Monitor-free Monday, Week 2 report.
October 11, 2009
My favorite mug
I herein am creating a new chain-response activity, entitled "My favorite [blank]". Feel free to respond with your favorite blank.
My favorite mug is large enough to have a nice size cup of tea or hot chocolate without going overboard (Too small and I wonder--I wasted a teabag on that? Too big and I end up wasting the excess, because how can I not use the space provided when making my drink?). It has a sturdy handle (important for carrying with baby or laptop in other hand), and is a wide regular cylindrical shape (good for even stirring and marshmallow placement) But the best part, and why it is my favorite, is the (oddly current but dated 1982, Murphy's Law-esque) text decoration which entertains me every time I read it. Naturally when there is something that brings me such joy I will want to share it with the world (the text, not the mug--there are limits to my generosity).
My favorite mug is large enough to have a nice size cup of tea or hot chocolate without going overboard (Too small and I wonder--I wasted a teabag on that? Too big and I end up wasting the excess, because how can I not use the space provided when making my drink?). It has a sturdy handle (important for carrying with baby or laptop in other hand), and is a wide regular cylindrical shape (good for even stirring and marshmallow placement) But the best part, and why it is my favorite, is the (oddly current but dated 1982, Murphy's Law-esque) text decoration which entertains me every time I read it. Naturally when there is something that brings me such joy I will want to share it with the world (the text, not the mug--there are limits to my generosity).
Laws of Computer ProgrammingFabulous, eh? Okay, your turn.
* Any given program, when running, is obsolete.
* If a program is useless, it will have to be documented.
* If a program is useful, it will have to be changed.
* Any program will expand to fill any available memory.
* The value of a program is proportional to the weight of its output.
* Program complexity grows until it exceeds the capability of the programmer to maintain it.
* Make it possible for programmers to write in English and you will find out that programmers cannot write in English.
Weinberg's Law
* If builders built buildings the way programmers wrote programs, then the first woodpecker that came along would destroy civilization.
Hare's Law of Large Programs
* Inside every large program is a small program struggling to get out.
Troutman's Programming Laws
* If a test installation functions perfectly, all subsequent systems will malfunction.
* Not until a program has been in production for at least six months will the most harmful error then be discovered.
* Job control cards that cannot be arranged in improper order will be.
* Interchangeable tapes won't.
* If the input editor has been designed to reject all bad input, an ingenious idiot will discover a method to get bad data past it.
* Machines work, people should think.
Golub's Laws of Computerdom
* A carelessly planned project takes three times longer to complete thane expected; a carefully planned project will take only twice as long.
* The effort required to correct the error increases geometrically with time.
Bradley's Bromide
* If computers get too powerful, we can organize them into a committee--that will do them in.
October 06, 2009
Jonesing
Know anyone who's an internet addict? How long can you go without using a computer, smart phone, or other net connected device? When is the last time you went 48 hours complete without checking your email? (Odds are it was during a vacation, a forced net-free zone.) Sounds funny, but I bet this is a serious problem for some people. And I'm sure it's changing (changed?) the way we interact, move, and plan our days. Just something I woke up contemplating. Now I'm off to check my email.... :)
Personal Statements
How cool is it to have a dedicated space to share one's views with friends and strangers alike on a regular basis? Vain, yes; generally pointless, certainly, but fun too. Never discount the value of fun. (I am reminded of the old "sound of one hand clapping" or "if a tree falls with no one to hear..." questions. Does anyone read my blog? Hello? You do realize I keep tabs on my readership, right? Wait, what was I doing? Oh, right, writing about vanity writing.)
Some people think bigger. Television producer Chuck Lorre is allotted space at the end of shows he produces for displaying a production logo to millions of viewers. Instead of the usual personalized production company image, Chuck takes this big-time opportunity to share a rant, story, or whatever is on his mind. So far he's presented 260 or so of these, including #255:
P.S. I ran a google search with just the word "fun" and it suggested Wikipedia's "Recreation" entry. Okay, I could challenge the relevance of presenting recreation as a legitimate objective when seeking out fun, but that's not what got my blood boiling. Check out the preview line offered for that page:
P.P.S. Lest you be left with an appalling image of Wikipedia and its anyone-can-contribute, seemingly nonexistent publishing standards, check out the un-fun but not un-interesting discussion of its Recreation entry. Some people have way too much time on their hands.
P.P.P.S. It could be said that all blog writers have too much time on their hands. Me, I'd say Chuck Lorre does.
Some people think bigger. Television producer Chuck Lorre is allotted space at the end of shows he produces for displaying a production logo to millions of viewers. Instead of the usual personalized production company image, Chuck takes this big-time opportunity to share a rant, story, or whatever is on his mind. So far he's presented 260 or so of these, including #255:
In film and television there exists a rule that all phone numbers spoken in dialogue or seen on the screen begin with the fake prefix 555. The reason for this rule is that somewhere along the line idiots began calling the phone numbers used on TV shows and movies. This resulted in production companies and networks being sued by the unhappy people who were harassed by the prank calls from the aforementioned idiots. All of which means that whether you're trying to enjoy a humble sitcom or a hundred million dollar action movie, every phone number will begin with the hateful, illusion-wrecking prefix, 555. In tonight's episode of Two and a Half Men we tried to get around this dilemma. The phone number Charlie rattles off in the first scene is actually one number short of a real number. Then, later in the scene, he discusses a memory trick which involves replacing numbers with letters in order to remember them. If you check your phone, you'll see the letters we used, OXOFEMPAL, or 696-336-725, is again one number short of being an actual working number, and JKLPUZO is the broadcast acceptable 555-7896. A lot of work, not to mention endless negotiations with our CBS censor, was necessary to come up with these numbers. So, to all the idiots out there, let me just say, 555-382-5968.Like a few others, #255 never aired. In its place the network ran this alternate #255:
CENSOREDWhere to look is on his website, where he posts all of 'em, aired or not. Whether good or bad, self destructive or career making, as of tonight Chuck Lorre Productions has generated more than 260 of these industry-poking "vanity cards". Harmlessly fun and way cooler than a blog, I'd say.
As always, the offending material is available to be read if you know where to look. I think you'll find that the card, while mildly amusing, is nowhere near as entertaining as the raging paranoia of our network censors.
P.S. For selfish reasons I would ask that you wait to read the censored card until after The Big Bang Theory.
P.S. I ran a google search with just the word "fun" and it suggested Wikipedia's "Recreation" entry. Okay, I could challenge the relevance of presenting recreation as a legitimate objective when seeking out fun, but that's not what got my blood boiling. Check out the preview line offered for that page:
Recreation - Wikipedia, the free encyclopediaWtf?! When I clicked through to the page, that text does not actually appear. I am thankful (the offending text has been edited out) and still deeply disturbed all at the same time.
Recreation or fun is chasing around black people with sticks. While leisure is more likely ...
Look up recreation or fun in Wiktionary, the free dictionary. ...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recreation -
P.P.S. Lest you be left with an appalling image of Wikipedia and its anyone-can-contribute, seemingly nonexistent publishing standards, check out the un-fun but not un-interesting discussion of its Recreation entry. Some people have way too much time on their hands.
P.P.P.S. It could be said that all blog writers have too much time on their hands. Me, I'd say Chuck Lorre does.
September 29, 2009
Don't shoot me
The Small Arms Trade: A Beginner's Guide
Hmm, to read or not to read? Sounds kinda interesting, BUT...depressing interesting or enlightening interesting? If it's both, does injection of latter mitigate effects of former? One thing I know for certain: I don't want to read the advanced guide.
Hmm, to read or not to read? Sounds kinda interesting, BUT...depressing interesting or enlightening interesting? If it's both, does injection of latter mitigate effects of former? One thing I know for certain: I don't want to read the advanced guide.
September 17, 2009
Farewells
I keep running into people who ask "How's David's grandfather doing?" This tells me I have been remiss in informing our friends of the sad news of Verl's passing. In mid July, 96-and-a-half year old Verl went to bed as usual and the next morning I found him snoring and unwakeable. Turns out he had had a massive stroke in the brainstem sometime during the night and then 36 hours of unconsciousness later he just slipped away. It was, as the doctor said, one of the best ways to go. No pain, quick, living life to the fullest right up to the end. We will miss him very much, as we do all our grandparents and loved ones; but more, we feel profound gratitude for the time Verl had with Adam and vice versa, and the way his presence added a special touch to our little family.
September 09, 2009
Highbrow, lowbrow
I've got two tv shows to recommend this week: one that aired originally a few years back but is still fabulous; and the other a new show that's just ended its first season and whose future is up in the air.
I just caught a fabulous episode of the PBS program Nature entitled Queen of Trees. It's a largely unnarrated film about the ubiquitous fig tree (there are 1000 varieties, who knew?) and its direct and indirect role in sustaining many lifeforms (the show's summary implies this is just about a tree and its dedicated wasp, but really the show is about one tree and the entire ecosystem it feeds). Beautifully filmed in high definition and thoughtfully edited, I found myself contentedly oohing and aahing repeatedly (such as when the guy patiently smokes out the bees then digs out the honeycomb, or when the alligator waits with its mouth open at the rockfall in the stream). And for what it's worth, even Adam was enthralled. (Before you ask, I will admit to allowing my 8-month old to occasionally watch nature programs and nonviolent sporting events with me, an extent of tv viewing I think reasonable for the next five years or so.)
The second show I recommend is the season finale of 10 Things I Hate About You. Loosely based on the movie of the same name (which was a loose adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew, one of several modernizations of classic stories that I also heartily recommend), this 30-minute ABC Family teen show features a solid cast, amusing storylines, and some very clever writing.
There's a time and a place for expanding one's mind, and there's a time and place for relaxing it. I'm proud to offer you opportunities for both.
UPDATE 9/17/09: The 10 Things season finale, that I enjoyed so much, drew this response from David (imagine him looking completely unimpressed as he says...): "This is the episode you were so excited about?" Well pttht to David. I for one am quite happy the show was renewed, and I know he'll be right next to me as I watch them.
I just caught a fabulous episode of the PBS program Nature entitled Queen of Trees. It's a largely unnarrated film about the ubiquitous fig tree (there are 1000 varieties, who knew?) and its direct and indirect role in sustaining many lifeforms (the show's summary implies this is just about a tree and its dedicated wasp, but really the show is about one tree and the entire ecosystem it feeds). Beautifully filmed in high definition and thoughtfully edited, I found myself contentedly oohing and aahing repeatedly (such as when the guy patiently smokes out the bees then digs out the honeycomb, or when the alligator waits with its mouth open at the rockfall in the stream). And for what it's worth, even Adam was enthralled. (Before you ask, I will admit to allowing my 8-month old to occasionally watch nature programs and nonviolent sporting events with me, an extent of tv viewing I think reasonable for the next five years or so.)
The second show I recommend is the season finale of 10 Things I Hate About You. Loosely based on the movie of the same name (which was a loose adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew, one of several modernizations of classic stories that I also heartily recommend), this 30-minute ABC Family teen show features a solid cast, amusing storylines, and some very clever writing.
Cameron: Despite everything, I still feel that Bianca and I are meant to be together. Haven't you ever known something deep in your heart?Okay, so it's not Proust. But it's cute and contemporary and generally compelling, and it could use a few more viewers to ensure its return. Check it out.
Michael: I'm fifteen, I know things deep in my pants. That's why I don't waste time on chicks that aren't into me.
There's a time and a place for expanding one's mind, and there's a time and place for relaxing it. I'm proud to offer you opportunities for both.
UPDATE 9/17/09: The 10 Things season finale, that I enjoyed so much, drew this response from David (imagine him looking completely unimpressed as he says...): "This is the episode you were so excited about?" Well pttht to David. I for one am quite happy the show was renewed, and I know he'll be right next to me as I watch them.
August 26, 2009
Good news
As an aside before I get to the point of my posting today...I think having a child has turned me mushy and sentimental. There are things I hear and see now that affect me far more than they ever did before. (Or more than I might ever have admitted.) News stories about missing or dying children--or this latest one about the discovery of skeletal infant remains--make my heart ache. (If you must, read the story on that last one over at CNN.)
Anyway, I thought this news story in the local paper today was simply too lovely not to share. Apparently a woman has helped raise over a thousand dollars for the area foodbank. The donations came about after she picked up a fellow shopper's tab, which eventually turned into a surfeit of cash (read the story for details) that instead of spending on herself she decided to donate, as did others who heard what she'd done. A nice story, yes?
And because I just thought this was funny (and it was baby related, which touches me these days, as noted previously), read here about how to automate the opening and closing of your computer's CD tray in order to rock a baby. But I don't recommend reading the comments (kind of unusual for me), because they're a downer (some people have no sense of humor or adventure).
Anyway, I thought this news story in the local paper today was simply too lovely not to share. Apparently a woman has helped raise over a thousand dollars for the area foodbank. The donations came about after she picked up a fellow shopper's tab, which eventually turned into a surfeit of cash (read the story for details) that instead of spending on herself she decided to donate, as did others who heard what she'd done. A nice story, yes?
And because I just thought this was funny (and it was baby related, which touches me these days, as noted previously), read here about how to automate the opening and closing of your computer's CD tray in order to rock a baby. But I don't recommend reading the comments (kind of unusual for me), because they're a downer (some people have no sense of humor or adventure).
August 13, 2009
Lifting weight
A few things I've just got to get off my chest (in no particular order):
1. I am sick of hearing about the Gosselins. David used to watch Jon & Kate Plus 8, the reality tv show about an endearingly dysfunctional couple and their home life with twins and sextuplets. And I certainly read a story or two about them whilst enjoying my airplane-ride People magazine. Well, the endearing is long gone, replaced by disturbing and pathetic. I do not care what the root cause of their breakup is, or whether Jon is really in love with the woman (women?) he has started dating since he and wife Kate split a few months back, or any other detail of their private lives. I think they should end the show--now, for their children's sakes. I feel horribly for the kids, and wish the parents would see that this is not a period of their lives that needs to be filmed and shared with the nation.
2. I am loving, loving David Mitchell's Bildungsroman Black Swan Green. I keep telling David to remind me in a decade or so to read it again, just before Adam enters his teens, as it is a wonderful look into the world of the adolescent boy. And as it is written by an author who has several other similarly styled and highly acclaimed works, I feel as I did when I first read Salinger and Stegner, that sense of deep literary contentment with a promise of still more to come.
3. I not only laughed about the results of the trustworthy news anchor poll which reported Jon Stewart is America's most trusted newscaster, but wholeheartedly agreed (although the poll did not include Jim Lehrer, who I trust more than Jon Stewart). I think if every member of Congress watched the first 10 minutes of The Daily Show our government would function a lot better.
4. I'm so irritated by the ridiculous (I didn't say biased, I do mean ridiculous) accusations being lobbed at the healthcare reform proposals that I am struck speechless every time I hear a new one. Maybe that's the protesters' plan: render supporters dumb. [I had a follow up that played off the word dumb, about making supporters peers of sorts for the protesters, but decided that was all a bit too low. And just like the protests themselves, what would it help?]
5. Facebook is a massive time suck. But sometimes a very enjoyable one. I think it may be on the path to hell.
6. The meat industry uses up a LOT of natural resources, and I think if more people realized it we'd be producing a lot less meat. I consume meat. I feel guilty.
7. Insert dozens of other modern day conveniences and amusements in place of "meat" in #6. [This reminds me of a question that has long plagued me: Why do we do things that we know are bad for us? I should suggest this topic to the Freakonomics authors.]
8. I am fascinated by David Lynch's Interview Project. He (or his documentarians) are traveling the country and interviewing random people they encounter along the way. What a fabulous reminder of how much we have in common, how fallible and hopeful and basically content most of us see ourselves as being.
1. I am sick of hearing about the Gosselins. David used to watch Jon & Kate Plus 8, the reality tv show about an endearingly dysfunctional couple and their home life with twins and sextuplets. And I certainly read a story or two about them whilst enjoying my airplane-ride People magazine. Well, the endearing is long gone, replaced by disturbing and pathetic. I do not care what the root cause of their breakup is, or whether Jon is really in love with the woman (women?) he has started dating since he and wife Kate split a few months back, or any other detail of their private lives. I think they should end the show--now, for their children's sakes. I feel horribly for the kids, and wish the parents would see that this is not a period of their lives that needs to be filmed and shared with the nation.
2. I am loving, loving David Mitchell's Bildungsroman Black Swan Green. I keep telling David to remind me in a decade or so to read it again, just before Adam enters his teens, as it is a wonderful look into the world of the adolescent boy. And as it is written by an author who has several other similarly styled and highly acclaimed works, I feel as I did when I first read Salinger and Stegner, that sense of deep literary contentment with a promise of still more to come.
3. I not only laughed about the results of the trustworthy news anchor poll which reported Jon Stewart is America's most trusted newscaster, but wholeheartedly agreed (although the poll did not include Jim Lehrer, who I trust more than Jon Stewart). I think if every member of Congress watched the first 10 minutes of The Daily Show our government would function a lot better.
4. I'm so irritated by the ridiculous (I didn't say biased, I do mean ridiculous) accusations being lobbed at the healthcare reform proposals that I am struck speechless every time I hear a new one. Maybe that's the protesters' plan: render supporters dumb. [I had a follow up that played off the word dumb, about making supporters peers of sorts for the protesters, but decided that was all a bit too low. And just like the protests themselves, what would it help?]
5. Facebook is a massive time suck. But sometimes a very enjoyable one. I think it may be on the path to hell.
6. The meat industry uses up a LOT of natural resources, and I think if more people realized it we'd be producing a lot less meat. I consume meat. I feel guilty.
7. Insert dozens of other modern day conveniences and amusements in place of "meat" in #6. [This reminds me of a question that has long plagued me: Why do we do things that we know are bad for us? I should suggest this topic to the Freakonomics authors.]
8. I am fascinated by David Lynch's Interview Project. He (or his documentarians) are traveling the country and interviewing random people they encounter along the way. What a fabulous reminder of how much we have in common, how fallible and hopeful and basically content most of us see ourselves as being.
July 03, 2009
Movies!
This past week I saw two current release movies. That's right, two movies. In theaters now. I know, it's shocking. In the unlikely event that you too find yourself headed for a movie theater, maybe my thoughts on these films will help you choose what to see (or not to see, depending on your tastes).
The Hangover
Caveat #1: I watched this at the drive-in, with a mostly sleeping infant and a spouse who didn't feel well. Read this review through whatever color lenses helps your own "truth" filter through to you.
Caveat #2: Before this movie even came out, I had a strong desire to see it (based on the amusing trailers) which then turned to hesitation (based on previous experience with funny trailers that ended up being associated with disappointing or downright terribly unfunny films) which then turned to renewed high hopes (based on a series of positive reviews from newspapers and friends). So by the time I saw it, I had a fair amount invested, emotionally. End caveat.
The full story behind their night is presented almost as an afterthought, and the conclusion was sort of forgettable, but a goodly number of the gags along the way are thankfully not. I particularly liked the casting, which matched likable actors to potentially unsympathetic roles; there's the cavalier risk taker (Cooper), the submissive rule follower (Helms), and the questionably stable future brother-in-law (Galifianakis, who is hilarious in this). The R-rating falls on the mild side, although the humor is certainly adult oriented (I don't think kids would be as titillated by marital jokes and references to Rain Man or Mike Tyson). Recommended for a laugh.
The Proposal
Continuing with my marriage comedy movie theme, I took the grandpa-in-law and the baby to see The Proposal, which stars the engaging duo of Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds as a boss-assistant pair who attempt to fool his family and the INS into believing their engagement is for real.
Caveat #3: My choice of The Proposal was tied to the fact that it was the "diaper day" movie offering for the week. Referred to elsewhere as "crybaby cinema", this film was viewed with the lights only partly dimmed and in a theater full of babies, toddlers, and their get-me-out-of-the-house parents. I was eager to get out, the grandpa-in-law was eager to get out, and so we went. There were several times during the movie when the toddlers and parents in pursuit captured more of our attention than the film. Thankfully for us (but maybe not for you, if you were to see this movie in a dark, relatively distraction free setting) the dialogue and plot did not lose much to the secondary program in the theater. End caveat.
Bullock plays the tough as nails boss and Reynolds is her loyal assistant, hopeful of one day earning recognition for the breadth of his talents. But his loyalty is tested when she claims him as her fiance in order to avoid deportation. He reluctantly agrees in exchange for a promotion and, needing to get the INS off their backs, the two embark on a long weekend trip to his native Alaskan hometown where she meets the folks, the ex girlfriend, and his wacky grandmother (played with usual verve by Betty White).
I thoroughly enjoyed the first four-fifths of this cliched, harmlessly amusing movie. It was cute, the lead actors were charming, the setting was quaint and easy on the eyes. Sure, there were a few overdone jokes, the story is fairly predictable, and the scene where Bullock and Reynolds run into each other is a bit too drawn out, but it was all charmingly done and without taking itself too seriously. If it was left at that, I'd recommend this movie without hesitation. Unfortunately, the screenwriters, director and editor seem to have disagreed on how to end the thing. The last 10 minutes felt rushed and oddly incoherent. Even predictable endings deserve to be shown, and in this case where the lead up was engaging, the absence of a satisfying conclusion left me particularly disappointed. I was sorry to miss out on the ending an otherwise cute movie deserved. Recommended for lighthearted romantics capable of imagining alternate endings. And if you're distracted while watching, the experience might even be improved. :)
On DVD
In the event you do not find yourself drawn to a movie theater, may I recommend a few things available on dvd? Without doubt my top recommendation would be Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. It's funny, dark, romantic, clever, and a musical. And lest you think, "Singing? Blech!" let me tell you--the music is nearly the best part (subtitles help). It stars Neil Patrick Harris as a wannabe supervillain (Dr. Horrible) with a crush on do-gooder Penny. But Dr. Horrible is no good at love, and his archnemesis, the dimbulb Captain Hammer, makes a move on Penny before he can. The story is creative, the casting spot-on, the songs Broadway-worthy, and it's all just a wonderful surprise. (I know, I'm gushing.) This originally aired as a series of "webisodes" (sort of like a Web-based miniseries) during the writer's strike, but is now available on a single dvd. Look for it.
My second recommendation is better known, but still its quality came as a surprise to me. I'd read and somewhat enjoyed Stephenie Meyer's teen vampire romance novel Twilight. Interested as I always am about a book's transition to film, I followed the hype surrounding casting (Robert Pattinson didn't seem to fit my vision of the sparkling romantic lead, and many others shared my skepticism) and tales of director disgruntlement (Catherine Hardwick either turned down directing the second film or was not asked to continue, depending on the source). By the time the movie hit theaters, the whole Twilight phenomenon was making me gag a little. I was in no hurry to see the movie (or read the second book, but that's a topic for another post), but added it to my netflix queue because I knew I would feel compelled eventually. When the dvd showed up I hesitated. It sat unwatched for a few weeks. Low expectations probably came into play, but by the time I did watch it, I quite enjoyed it. The film style is creative, the setting perfectly matches that created in the book, and the casting worked much better than expected. They chopped bits of the story for ease of filming but did it well enough that people who hadn't read the book could follow along. Because I was pleasantly surprised, I thought maybe others would be too. A decent moody teen romance.
The Hangover
Caveat #1: I watched this at the drive-in, with a mostly sleeping infant and a spouse who didn't feel well. Read this review through whatever color lenses helps your own "truth" filter through to you.
Caveat #2: Before this movie even came out, I had a strong desire to see it (based on the amusing trailers) which then turned to hesitation (based on previous experience with funny trailers that ended up being associated with disappointing or downright terribly unfunny films) which then turned to renewed high hopes (based on a series of positive reviews from newspapers and friends). So by the time I saw it, I had a fair amount invested, emotionally. End caveat.
"You'd be forgiven for thinking this is a documentary. After all, who hasn't woken up in a trashed Las Vegas hotel suite with a missing tooth, a tiger in the bathroom, a baby in the closet and little or no memory of what happened the night before?" -- AP reviewer's take on The HangoverThe Hangover is indeed about three guys, in Vegas for a bachelor party, who must piece together the events of an increasingly bizarre evening, one that they all have forgotten. Starring Bradley Cooper and Ed Helms, this R-rated comedy is clever in places, mostly well paced, and funny without going over the top (though it comes close with the inexplicably flamboyant Asian gangster).
The full story behind their night is presented almost as an afterthought, and the conclusion was sort of forgettable, but a goodly number of the gags along the way are thankfully not. I particularly liked the casting, which matched likable actors to potentially unsympathetic roles; there's the cavalier risk taker (Cooper), the submissive rule follower (Helms), and the questionably stable future brother-in-law (Galifianakis, who is hilarious in this). The R-rating falls on the mild side, although the humor is certainly adult oriented (I don't think kids would be as titillated by marital jokes and references to Rain Man or Mike Tyson). Recommended for a laugh.
The Proposal
Continuing with my marriage comedy movie theme, I took the grandpa-in-law and the baby to see The Proposal, which stars the engaging duo of Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds as a boss-assistant pair who attempt to fool his family and the INS into believing their engagement is for real.
Caveat #3: My choice of The Proposal was tied to the fact that it was the "diaper day" movie offering for the week. Referred to elsewhere as "crybaby cinema", this film was viewed with the lights only partly dimmed and in a theater full of babies, toddlers, and their get-me-out-of-the-house parents. I was eager to get out, the grandpa-in-law was eager to get out, and so we went. There were several times during the movie when the toddlers and parents in pursuit captured more of our attention than the film. Thankfully for us (but maybe not for you, if you were to see this movie in a dark, relatively distraction free setting) the dialogue and plot did not lose much to the secondary program in the theater. End caveat.
Bullock plays the tough as nails boss and Reynolds is her loyal assistant, hopeful of one day earning recognition for the breadth of his talents. But his loyalty is tested when she claims him as her fiance in order to avoid deportation. He reluctantly agrees in exchange for a promotion and, needing to get the INS off their backs, the two embark on a long weekend trip to his native Alaskan hometown where she meets the folks, the ex girlfriend, and his wacky grandmother (played with usual verve by Betty White).
I thoroughly enjoyed the first four-fifths of this cliched, harmlessly amusing movie. It was cute, the lead actors were charming, the setting was quaint and easy on the eyes. Sure, there were a few overdone jokes, the story is fairly predictable, and the scene where Bullock and Reynolds run into each other is a bit too drawn out, but it was all charmingly done and without taking itself too seriously. If it was left at that, I'd recommend this movie without hesitation. Unfortunately, the screenwriters, director and editor seem to have disagreed on how to end the thing. The last 10 minutes felt rushed and oddly incoherent. Even predictable endings deserve to be shown, and in this case where the lead up was engaging, the absence of a satisfying conclusion left me particularly disappointed. I was sorry to miss out on the ending an otherwise cute movie deserved. Recommended for lighthearted romantics capable of imagining alternate endings. And if you're distracted while watching, the experience might even be improved. :)
On DVD
In the event you do not find yourself drawn to a movie theater, may I recommend a few things available on dvd? Without doubt my top recommendation would be Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. It's funny, dark, romantic, clever, and a musical. And lest you think, "Singing? Blech!" let me tell you--the music is nearly the best part (subtitles help). It stars Neil Patrick Harris as a wannabe supervillain (Dr. Horrible) with a crush on do-gooder Penny. But Dr. Horrible is no good at love, and his archnemesis, the dimbulb Captain Hammer, makes a move on Penny before he can. The story is creative, the casting spot-on, the songs Broadway-worthy, and it's all just a wonderful surprise. (I know, I'm gushing.) This originally aired as a series of "webisodes" (sort of like a Web-based miniseries) during the writer's strike, but is now available on a single dvd. Look for it.
My second recommendation is better known, but still its quality came as a surprise to me. I'd read and somewhat enjoyed Stephenie Meyer's teen vampire romance novel Twilight. Interested as I always am about a book's transition to film, I followed the hype surrounding casting (Robert Pattinson didn't seem to fit my vision of the sparkling romantic lead, and many others shared my skepticism) and tales of director disgruntlement (Catherine Hardwick either turned down directing the second film or was not asked to continue, depending on the source). By the time the movie hit theaters, the whole Twilight phenomenon was making me gag a little. I was in no hurry to see the movie (or read the second book, but that's a topic for another post), but added it to my netflix queue because I knew I would feel compelled eventually. When the dvd showed up I hesitated. It sat unwatched for a few weeks. Low expectations probably came into play, but by the time I did watch it, I quite enjoyed it. The film style is creative, the setting perfectly matches that created in the book, and the casting worked much better than expected. They chopped bits of the story for ease of filming but did it well enough that people who hadn't read the book could follow along. Because I was pleasantly surprised, I thought maybe others would be too. A decent moody teen romance.
(Un)Safety in numbers
Because I refer you elsewhere a lot and maybe you don't actually go because it's too hard to tear yourself from my blog, I present to you here, in its entirety, a recent Freakonomics posting on the subject of transportation accidents, media coverage, and irrational fears (that last bit is my perspective, maybe yours too?).
The Danger of SafetyNow go visit my favorite part of the blog, the reader comments. I have to agree with the people who argue that one's lack of control over the airplane or train goes a long way toward generating fear of something bad happening. I also support the notion that one's lessened fear of car accidents due to this same sense of control is largely misguided--accidents happen to the most careful drivers, too. Decreased risk is not the same as no-risk.
by Eric A. Morris
In case you haven’t heard, an accident on the Washington metro claimed nine lives last week. But then again, chances are you have heard, as the crash got wide coverage over the airwaves, on the net, and in the papers (by my count, at least five articles appeared in The Times). This is usually the case when trains or planes are involved in deadly disasters.
But what the media very rarely mention is that the carnage on our roads makes these much-hyped accidents look almost trivial. Nine lives is nine too many, but there were 39,800 motor vehicle traffic fatalities in 2008 alone (and that was a good year). At that rate, between the time of the accident, June 22, and the time you are reading this, on average about 1,000 Americans died on our roadways. Yet this rarely merits a mention by the press.
Why the disparity in coverage? I don’t think it has anything to do with any particular animus toward transit; on the contrary, I personally think the press has a pretty strong pro-transit slant.
Instead, a number of factors are probably at play. A flood of simultaneous deaths seems to titillate us more than a steady drip (and let’s not forget that we are being titillated here, or the media wouldn’t be serving these stories up). There’s probably a threshold effect at work, as a certain plateau of deaths triggers the dispatch of reporters. Perhaps crashes involving larger vehicles are more “photogenic.”
And I think there is one more key dynamic. Heavy rail (the mode in the Washington crash) is a lot safer than car travel; in 2006 (the last year for which I have data) autos were responsible for five times more fatalities per passenger mile. (See here for auto fatalities per year, here for transit fatalities, and here for passenger miles traveled by mode.
In 2007 and 2008 there was not a single fatal accident associated with a major commercial airline. This year has seen 60 deaths (most from a single crash), but that still makes commercial air travel vastly safer than driving. Even in 2001, the year of a (hopefully) freak disaster on 9/11, commercial air travel had a per-passenger mile fatality rate about one eighth that of driving (see here for air fatalities).
The relative rarity of air and rail disasters makes them novel, and hence news. Car crashes bite man, and rail and air crashes bite dog. Intensive coverage of the few air and rail accidents that do occur in turn promotes the widespread — and erroneous — inference that planes and trains are unsafe. In an unfair irony, in transportation perhaps too much safety can be a dangerous thing.
God grant me the serenityAnd by the way, my response to commenter #23 is, "Hello, you're reading a blog on the NY Times website. Let's just assume it might be a bit US-focused." No, I didn't submit that comment, because I'm pretty sure my snide remark would not meet the blog's comments standards. And if it did, then I'd not want my first contribution to the Freakonomics site to be a sarcastic one. I like to maintain the image of openness and compassion, even when I'm not feeling it. :)
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.
June 25, 2009
It's the (cock)pits
For once the Freakonomics guys don't have the best guest commentator on a subject. Last month they befriended an airline pilot named Steve, who they've let rant about the industry and offer a few useful glimpses into pilots' work. Alas, the reader comments are more interesting by far. Over on Salon.com another pilot is a lot more coherent and offers much more interesting and useful insights, though he too has a tendency to rant a bit. Must be something about pilots. Anyway, go read Ask the Pilot when you have time to spare. Fascinating stuff.
Virtual homelessness
This is awesome. It's a blog reporting on the simulated game world of a homeless father and daughter, Kev and Alice. "That's a game?" you ask. Yup, welcome to The Sims 3, a simulation game where you create people and construct homes (or not, in this case) and neighborhoods, send young ones to school, older ones to work, and help your charges avoid death until old age takes them. Completely silly and fascinating at the same time. (Alice and Kev's creator also has a Twitter feed for them). Naturally I learned of this fabulous oddity through the Freakonomics blog. :)
June 22, 2009
Might as well be Mothra
The light brown apple moth is becoming quite the pest. Not that I've seen any, or am likely to ever see one. But they're out there, bugging me, because their presence in my world prevents me from taking advantage of a really cool produce-trading service, or any other free local produce, for that matter.
A few months back I offered to give away via freecycle my bounty of shiny ripe kumquats. I'm not a fan of the flavor of this small edible-skinned oblong citrus, but I was sure others would be. And as I've never spotted them in the produce section of the store I figured whoever likes them would jump at the chance to strip my tree bare. Sure enough, within an hour I'd received multiple requests for as many kumquats as I had to offer. But then amidst the enthusiastic replies came a reminder about the light brown apple moth quarantine area. I was in it, and no giving away of produce was allowed from within its bounds. Hmph.
I wrestled with doing the right thing versus thumbing my nose at the law by sharing potentially LBAM infested fruit. One respondent suggested an alternative: allow people who wanted to, to just consume kumquats on my premises, thereby not breaking quarantine. But that sounded a bit odd and time consuming. I could have ignored the helpful quarantine reminder altogether and had no difficulty in being left off the hook from friends and neighbors, since no one I've spoken to about it was aware of the ban on sharing even backyard produce within the quarantine area. After explaining my quandary to one friend, he wondered, "But if you're under quarantine, why can't you share with other people also in quarantine?" I've found myself educating everyone I mention it to (the reason is to contain moths where they are, period), and worrying that the quarantine is going to be in effect a very long time if everyone around me is unwittingly keeping this dumb pest around. Alas, such thoughts did nothing to unburden my kumquat tree. So as with so many things (though undoubtedly not enough things) I took the high road on this one, and have kept the kumquats to myself.
And so I sit here on a warm sunny day, looking out my window at the compact citrus tree that shades my patio, and watch as the breeze knocks another overripe fruit to the ground. And then I glance to my desk where I see a reminder about the need to clear fallen fruit ASAP to discourage loitering rats in the area. Sometimes it's not about getting ahead, sometimes it's enough just to be staying in place.
A few months back I offered to give away via freecycle my bounty of shiny ripe kumquats. I'm not a fan of the flavor of this small edible-skinned oblong citrus, but I was sure others would be. And as I've never spotted them in the produce section of the store I figured whoever likes them would jump at the chance to strip my tree bare. Sure enough, within an hour I'd received multiple requests for as many kumquats as I had to offer. But then amidst the enthusiastic replies came a reminder about the light brown apple moth quarantine area. I was in it, and no giving away of produce was allowed from within its bounds. Hmph.
I wrestled with doing the right thing versus thumbing my nose at the law by sharing potentially LBAM infested fruit. One respondent suggested an alternative: allow people who wanted to, to just consume kumquats on my premises, thereby not breaking quarantine. But that sounded a bit odd and time consuming. I could have ignored the helpful quarantine reminder altogether and had no difficulty in being left off the hook from friends and neighbors, since no one I've spoken to about it was aware of the ban on sharing even backyard produce within the quarantine area. After explaining my quandary to one friend, he wondered, "But if you're under quarantine, why can't you share with other people also in quarantine?" I've found myself educating everyone I mention it to (the reason is to contain moths where they are, period), and worrying that the quarantine is going to be in effect a very long time if everyone around me is unwittingly keeping this dumb pest around. Alas, such thoughts did nothing to unburden my kumquat tree. So as with so many things (though undoubtedly not enough things) I took the high road on this one, and have kept the kumquats to myself.
And so I sit here on a warm sunny day, looking out my window at the compact citrus tree that shades my patio, and watch as the breeze knocks another overripe fruit to the ground. And then I glance to my desk where I see a reminder about the need to clear fallen fruit ASAP to discourage loitering rats in the area. Sometimes it's not about getting ahead, sometimes it's enough just to be staying in place.
June 18, 2009
Nuts about Abs
I've got two interesting health related articles from the New York Times to recommend to you today, one on the possibly misguided abdominals exercise craze and the other on the possibly misguided childhood nut exposure avoidance craze. Don't want to read the articles? Here's the gist--sit ups are not good for your back; there are three simple exercises that are probably all you need to maintain a strong torso (but not the aforementioned sit-up); and having all our kids avoid nuts is nutty if what we're after is a decrease in food allergies (besides, the incidence of severe allergic reactions is much much lower than parents might be led to infer from the paranoia evident at schools and daycare centers).
June 16, 2009
Short attention span theater
A few random thoughts I've been entertaining lately:
Among ways to die, being sucked out of a disintegrating plane several miles above the ocean is not one I'd prefer.
News of the protests in Iran gives me some hope.
The idea that someone might remake Valley Girl sends a chill down my spine.
The California budget mess continues to distress me. There is absolutely no win in any of the solutions proposed, and I loathe no-win situations.
I really like the series of pieces being aired this week on NPR's All Things Considered about the cost of health care.
Loved the "Oversharing" discussion on Forum last week about today's virtual relationships. In particular the bit about inviting all one's facebook friends to a party, only to have one person show up.
Think about the difference between responsibility and accountability.
Among ways to die, being sucked out of a disintegrating plane several miles above the ocean is not one I'd prefer.
News of the protests in Iran gives me some hope.
The idea that someone might remake Valley Girl sends a chill down my spine.
The California budget mess continues to distress me. There is absolutely no win in any of the solutions proposed, and I loathe no-win situations.
I really like the series of pieces being aired this week on NPR's All Things Considered about the cost of health care.
Loved the "Oversharing" discussion on Forum last week about today's virtual relationships. In particular the bit about inviting all one's facebook friends to a party, only to have one person show up.
Think about the difference between responsibility and accountability.
March 26, 2009
HOA = haphazardly organized absurdity
Last year I got involved in our townhome complex. We had been non-resident owners for 5 years, and visitors for many more years than that (the townhome was David's grandparents' place before we bought it). Before we moved in David and I had noted a gradual decline in the complex over the years, alongside an abrupt rise in dues. I figured, as I always do, I have no right to complain if I'm not willing to get involved and be part of a solution. Right off the bat I volunteered for a new committee tasked with identifying ways to improve life in the complex.
Turns out the HOA is managed in a marginally competent manner by a group of longtime residents. They don't exactly mismanage things, but they certainly don't manage things well either. Worse, they seem to actively undermine every new idea presented to them. Too late I discovered that the homeowners who populated the ad hoc committee I'd joined were on the outs with virtually every member of this closed-minded HOA's board of directors, that the feud was fairly longstanding though largely un-acted upon, and that the recently elected president of the board, a seemingly intelligent, personable guy, was very good at talking out of both sides of his mouth. I'd also begun to notice that the committee members had their own issues, some of which rendered them powerless; a lot of bark and no bite, if you will.
In a complex of 163 homes, where winters are mild and summer temperatures regularly reach the upper 80's, a glorious community swimming pool has been closed since September and looks not to be reopened before mid-summer due to seemingly nonchalant planning of repairs. This is a ridiculous problem to have, as it is so very fixable. It didn't take me long to see that we had more fundamental problems worthy of fixing, things like outdated fiscal planning, a lackluster landscape, and a rapidly deteriorating (some would say nonexistent) sense of community pride. The biggest problem of all though was that we seemed to have no one truly capable of (or in some cases interested in) fixing them.
Buoyed by my still-existent optimism last fall David won a hotly contested spot on the board of directors. He was elected and given the VP slot largely because he is a moderate, sensible person. Unfortunately the people he must work with are quite the opposite. In my opinion they are insecure, sheltered, fearful of change, and want to control things as a means of countering all of those. For the life of me I can't understand why these people are all so hateful and mistrusting. I'm not sure I've ever had to deal with such a negative concentration of people. Usually some common ground can be found, some nod given to civility or neighborliness or just plain curiosity about something new; not here.
I'm too tired at the moment to do justice to the lunacy that passes for so-called management and leadership. I'll just present you with a few images. Picture a defensive, ineffectual "professional" property manager who looks an awful lot like a young Wilford Brimley; a chain-smoking, pain-pill popping crazy board member who spends all his daylight hours dictating to the landscaping crew (while we pay their actual bosses for unused professional oversight); a renegade resident newsletter with a column titled "Musings from a bored meeting" in which the author (a local realtor) includes verbatim quotes from aforementioned crazy man; another resident who shouted at a board member--his neighbor--"You're what's wrong with this place" and shelled out $100 for a party after the board flatly rejected funding any social events; and various well entrenched cliques engaged in malicious gossip and the occasional flat out smear campaign (complete with letters and window signs). Suffice it to say that what happens at this complex is not conducive to making me want to remain much longer.
Sadder still is the fact that the spiteful shenanigans around here appear not to be unusual when it comes to HOAs. My next home will, I hope, not have a HOA associated with it. I'm afraid that my peaceful outlook might not be able to withstand such a test.
Turns out the HOA is managed in a marginally competent manner by a group of longtime residents. They don't exactly mismanage things, but they certainly don't manage things well either. Worse, they seem to actively undermine every new idea presented to them. Too late I discovered that the homeowners who populated the ad hoc committee I'd joined were on the outs with virtually every member of this closed-minded HOA's board of directors, that the feud was fairly longstanding though largely un-acted upon, and that the recently elected president of the board, a seemingly intelligent, personable guy, was very good at talking out of both sides of his mouth. I'd also begun to notice that the committee members had their own issues, some of which rendered them powerless; a lot of bark and no bite, if you will.
In a complex of 163 homes, where winters are mild and summer temperatures regularly reach the upper 80's, a glorious community swimming pool has been closed since September and looks not to be reopened before mid-summer due to seemingly nonchalant planning of repairs. This is a ridiculous problem to have, as it is so very fixable. It didn't take me long to see that we had more fundamental problems worthy of fixing, things like outdated fiscal planning, a lackluster landscape, and a rapidly deteriorating (some would say nonexistent) sense of community pride. The biggest problem of all though was that we seemed to have no one truly capable of (or in some cases interested in) fixing them.
Buoyed by my still-existent optimism last fall David won a hotly contested spot on the board of directors. He was elected and given the VP slot largely because he is a moderate, sensible person. Unfortunately the people he must work with are quite the opposite. In my opinion they are insecure, sheltered, fearful of change, and want to control things as a means of countering all of those. For the life of me I can't understand why these people are all so hateful and mistrusting. I'm not sure I've ever had to deal with such a negative concentration of people. Usually some common ground can be found, some nod given to civility or neighborliness or just plain curiosity about something new; not here.
I'm too tired at the moment to do justice to the lunacy that passes for so-called management and leadership. I'll just present you with a few images. Picture a defensive, ineffectual "professional" property manager who looks an awful lot like a young Wilford Brimley; a chain-smoking, pain-pill popping crazy board member who spends all his daylight hours dictating to the landscaping crew (while we pay their actual bosses for unused professional oversight); a renegade resident newsletter with a column titled "Musings from a bored meeting" in which the author (a local realtor) includes verbatim quotes from aforementioned crazy man; another resident who shouted at a board member--his neighbor--"You're what's wrong with this place" and shelled out $100 for a party after the board flatly rejected funding any social events; and various well entrenched cliques engaged in malicious gossip and the occasional flat out smear campaign (complete with letters and window signs). Suffice it to say that what happens at this complex is not conducive to making me want to remain much longer.
Sadder still is the fact that the spiteful shenanigans around here appear not to be unusual when it comes to HOAs. My next home will, I hope, not have a HOA associated with it. I'm afraid that my peaceful outlook might not be able to withstand such a test.
March 13, 2009
Placebos that kill
While the baby naps I'm catching up on some Freakonomics reading. Good thing, as I've missed some real doozies these past few months. For example there's this one on the unrealistic expectation that all drug/treatment effectiveness be evaluated in comparison to a placebo. (The title sort of says it all: "In a Parachute-Effectiveness Trial, Who Gets the Placebo?") Earlier this week in The Morning News they featured a website which displays front pages of major newspapers, side by side. Not essential, but interesting. Not even pretending to be essential are the various "aptonym" postings, wherein the authors share uncannily appropriate names (a meteorologist named Amy Freeze). As always the best parts of the Freakonomics blog are in the readers' comments. Check out the comments section of Creative Destruction, which plays to the blog's strength by simply seeking responses to the Jon Stewart-Jim Cramer interview. Fascinating stuff.
February 18, 2009
25 Things
Got tagged in one of those endless email/facebook "Share 25 random things about you" notes. I'm game, but short of 25 at the start. So I'll add things here as they occur to me (and as I can get on the computer), then post to facebook when magic number is reached. Here goes...
1. In high school I made up a moon prayer one evening during marching band practice. It was nonsensical and nonrhyming, but it has stuck and become quite special to me. I recite it at the first glimpse of the moon. And no, I won't be sharing it with you.
2. I'm a sucker for the Delilah radio program. It reminds me of listening to Casey Kasem's Top 40 countdown as a kid, which I also enjoyed with secret glee. Sappy, sentimental, and thus so very unlike me, but I can't tune away when I come across it on the radio dial.
3. I am a volunteer with the local open space district. Most of the work I have done there over the years involves removing non-native plants, but on occasion I've also helped count wildflower species, clear new trails, construct fences, and plant trees.
4. My second grade class protested the hunting and killing of whales and baby seals. We watched a Greenpeace film, then made signs and t-shirts and picketed at a mall (my first but certainly not last protest experience). Mrs. Davis, our teacher, also taught us meditation (possibly the greatest skill I learned that year). Yes, it was a public school and yes, it was the 70's.
5. I am fairly superstitious. This mostly takes the form of needing to knock (preferably on wood) whenever I say or hear a dire prediction about a loved one. I know this is irrational and not related to changing any outcomes, but still I must knock or else I become rather anxious.
6. There are moments when I feel quite strongly that the world is just a figment of my imagination. On many such occasions I have informed David, "You're another person," and he has nodded his head in chagrin.
7. During my first week at a new school in 4th grade I severely tore the ligament in my ankle while playing Chinese jump rope. That was my first of many stints on crutches due to ankle sprains.
8. I came this close to being named Michalene Angela.
9. I hyperventilate when I am anxious.
10. I have tinnitus, no doubt due to my love of loud music and rock concerts as a teen. I have since made a habit of keeping the volume down, although every once in a while I crank it up for a song or two. Alas, I pay later.
11. I only applied to one college. Thankfully I was accepted. Better yet, I have never once regretted my going there.
12. I love balloons and can become unnaturally attached to them, which makes their inevitable demise hard to take. I still lament the loss to the skies of an enormous balloon which got away from David as he emerged from his car on my 18th birthday.
13. My traveling companion's name is Pavel. He is a 13-year old stuffed animal; I identify him as a reindeer, but others point out he looks more like a moose. Head poking out of my backpack, Pavel has traveled on trains, planes, cars, boats, and bicycles. I buy souvenir t-shirts (size 6 months) and socks for him. He is my Wilson. My dad has expressed concern over my attachment to Pavel. He's probably right to be concerned.
14. I love pumpkin baked goods. Muffins, scones, breads, mm mm good. I make a point of going to IHOP each fall, as often as David will tolerate, to enjoy their pumpkin pancake special.
15. I enjoy reading fanfiction based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Yes, some of it is bad (and some is quite racy), but the good stuff makes perfect pleasure reading. I'm not generally much for real life hypotheticals; however, in reimagining a beloved story, fanfiction "what ifs" are something I can happily ruminate on for hours on end.
16. The creepy clown doll in Poltergeist scares the bejeesus out of me.
17. I am "allergic" to aspartame. That's not a medical diagnosis, just an experiential lesson. I can consume small quantities but prefer to avoid it altogether.
18. I do not like the taste of coffee in any of its forms, including mocha. I also don't like beer, blue cheeses, capers, artichokes, avocado, or bell pepper. I will pick onions out of anything I detect them in.
19. Thus far in my genealogical research I have identified 144 of my direct ancestors, 14 generations' worth dating back as far as the late 1500s. "My people" are from Virginia, New Jersey, England, and Italy.
20. I lived in a four generation household for a time when I was growing up. The experience, frustrating as it occasionally was, is one I cherish. It's one reason I am so happy my child gets to live with his great grandfather.
21. I have a fondness for squares and prime numbers and other number patterns.
22. In another lifetime I would go to medical school, although I have no desire to become a doctor.
23. As a kid I liked to read encyclopedias. The internet, as useful a resource as it is, will never replace my love of reference books.
24. I love playing board games. Challenge me to a round of Clue and I will drop everything. In truth if you request my presence for any sort of board game I'm likely to jump at the chance, even the usually tedious Monopoly. Alas many good games, like Eurorails, require more time and willing participants than I generally have access to. I'm not much into computer games, but my favorites over the years have always been puzzle-related. Fools Errand and The Lost Mind of Dr. Brain immediately come to mind. I also enjoy The Sims, although I am clearly a far more casual user than the game is designed for.
25. ?? You'll have to go to my facebook page to check out the last item.
1. In high school I made up a moon prayer one evening during marching band practice. It was nonsensical and nonrhyming, but it has stuck and become quite special to me. I recite it at the first glimpse of the moon. And no, I won't be sharing it with you.
2. I'm a sucker for the Delilah radio program. It reminds me of listening to Casey Kasem's Top 40 countdown as a kid, which I also enjoyed with secret glee. Sappy, sentimental, and thus so very unlike me, but I can't tune away when I come across it on the radio dial.
3. I am a volunteer with the local open space district. Most of the work I have done there over the years involves removing non-native plants, but on occasion I've also helped count wildflower species, clear new trails, construct fences, and plant trees.
4. My second grade class protested the hunting and killing of whales and baby seals. We watched a Greenpeace film, then made signs and t-shirts and picketed at a mall (my first but certainly not last protest experience). Mrs. Davis, our teacher, also taught us meditation (possibly the greatest skill I learned that year). Yes, it was a public school and yes, it was the 70's.
5. I am fairly superstitious. This mostly takes the form of needing to knock (preferably on wood) whenever I say or hear a dire prediction about a loved one. I know this is irrational and not related to changing any outcomes, but still I must knock or else I become rather anxious.
6. There are moments when I feel quite strongly that the world is just a figment of my imagination. On many such occasions I have informed David, "You're another person," and he has nodded his head in chagrin.
7. During my first week at a new school in 4th grade I severely tore the ligament in my ankle while playing Chinese jump rope. That was my first of many stints on crutches due to ankle sprains.
8. I came this close to being named Michalene Angela.
9. I hyperventilate when I am anxious.
10. I have tinnitus, no doubt due to my love of loud music and rock concerts as a teen. I have since made a habit of keeping the volume down, although every once in a while I crank it up for a song or two. Alas, I pay later.
11. I only applied to one college. Thankfully I was accepted. Better yet, I have never once regretted my going there.
12. I love balloons and can become unnaturally attached to them, which makes their inevitable demise hard to take. I still lament the loss to the skies of an enormous balloon which got away from David as he emerged from his car on my 18th birthday.
13. My traveling companion's name is Pavel. He is a 13-year old stuffed animal; I identify him as a reindeer, but others point out he looks more like a moose. Head poking out of my backpack, Pavel has traveled on trains, planes, cars, boats, and bicycles. I buy souvenir t-shirts (size 6 months) and socks for him. He is my Wilson. My dad has expressed concern over my attachment to Pavel. He's probably right to be concerned.
14. I love pumpkin baked goods. Muffins, scones, breads, mm mm good. I make a point of going to IHOP each fall, as often as David will tolerate, to enjoy their pumpkin pancake special.
15. I enjoy reading fanfiction based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Yes, some of it is bad (and some is quite racy), but the good stuff makes perfect pleasure reading. I'm not generally much for real life hypotheticals; however, in reimagining a beloved story, fanfiction "what ifs" are something I can happily ruminate on for hours on end.
16. The creepy clown doll in Poltergeist scares the bejeesus out of me.
17. I am "allergic" to aspartame. That's not a medical diagnosis, just an experiential lesson. I can consume small quantities but prefer to avoid it altogether.
18. I do not like the taste of coffee in any of its forms, including mocha. I also don't like beer, blue cheeses, capers, artichokes, avocado, or bell pepper. I will pick onions out of anything I detect them in.
19. Thus far in my genealogical research I have identified 144 of my direct ancestors, 14 generations' worth dating back as far as the late 1500s. "My people" are from Virginia, New Jersey, England, and Italy.
20. I lived in a four generation household for a time when I was growing up. The experience, frustrating as it occasionally was, is one I cherish. It's one reason I am so happy my child gets to live with his great grandfather.
21. I have a fondness for squares and prime numbers and other number patterns.
22. In another lifetime I would go to medical school, although I have no desire to become a doctor.
23. As a kid I liked to read encyclopedias. The internet, as useful a resource as it is, will never replace my love of reference books.
24. I love playing board games. Challenge me to a round of Clue and I will drop everything. In truth if you request my presence for any sort of board game I'm likely to jump at the chance, even the usually tedious Monopoly. Alas many good games, like Eurorails, require more time and willing participants than I generally have access to. I'm not much into computer games, but my favorites over the years have always been puzzle-related. Fools Errand and The Lost Mind of Dr. Brain immediately come to mind. I also enjoy The Sims, although I am clearly a far more casual user than the game is designed for.
25. ?? You'll have to go to my facebook page to check out the last item.
January 30, 2009
Fourteen Is Enough
Debate topic for today: The world would be a happier place without the news.
The reporting of live octuplets born this week in the Los Angeles area was intriguing enough. Now comes word that the mother has 6 other children, all under the age of 8. Wow. Make that WOW. It's no shock that the woman used fertility treatments, but it is rather amazing that with so many children already she would either want or need to use artificial means in order to have more. No doubt anticipating the incredulity such news would inspire in readers, the above story ends with quotes from several fertility specialists. "Who am I to say that six is the limit?" one said, while the other commented, "I don't think it's our job to tell them how many babies they're allowed to have. I am not a policeman for reproduction in the United States." True enough, but I don't think there will be any shortage of others willing to fill in the passing judgment void.
My grandfather always decried the unhappy focus of the news, and today's headlines would offer him no respite. First we have the latest depressing statistic on the economy; apparently we're doomed to a deep recession. (Side note: I'm rather surprised the media hasn't started stirring up fears of a depression. Probably they want to hold onto that one for next month, so as not to waste the recession momentum they've built up. UPDATE Mar 11, 2009: The Freakonomics post today is entitled "Yes we're in a depression", referring to the opinion of a new book.) Elsewhere in the news we hear that the peanut plant responsible for countless contaminated products should have recalled their peanut paste--or at least checked production thoroughly for source of salmonella--2 YEARS ago. And then there's ExxonMobil, who posted ANOTHER record breaking year of profits. Happy news for stockholders, but a sad statement for those of us concerned about deep imbalances in the world.
And last but not least is the news that former San Francisco Giant Bobby Estalella is ready to testify against teammate Barry Bonds in the grandaddy of all steroids cases. It's obvious Estalella was on something during his time with the Giants. No one gets as ripped as the catcher was during the 2000 season just naturally. And given that he and Bonds shared a locker room and a trainer, it's not surprising he may have some insight into Bonds' fellow bulkiness at the time.
Some may view the firming up of the anti-Bonds case as good news, and you might think that as a fan of baseball I'd be one of them. But in this instance I can't get happy over news of impending justice. In truth, the steroid years offered some of the most fun, exciting sports spectating I've ever witnessed. And in fairness to the doped-up players, the use of all performance enhancing drugs was not strictly forbidden at the time (never mind that users hid their habits because they sensed it was wrong and were playing Russian roulette with their bodies to boot--idiocy and self destruction have never been outlawed). As much as I may want to, it's not fair to judge past actions using today's standards.
But then Bonds isn't being tried for his use of steroids, past or present; it's the lying about it that is at issue in this case. Which is why my unwillingness to celebrate his demise befuddles even me. Maybe it's my compassion coming out. After all, Bonds has become persona non grata in what was virtually his entire world, which can't feel nice. Maybe it's me healthily letting go of the past. But more likely it's just a desire to not have to hear about unpleasant things and a wish to return to a slightly delusional present. After all, how can bad news get me down if it doesn't exist? There, I'm feeling much happier now. :)
The reporting of live octuplets born this week in the Los Angeles area was intriguing enough. Now comes word that the mother has 6 other children, all under the age of 8. Wow. Make that WOW. It's no shock that the woman used fertility treatments, but it is rather amazing that with so many children already she would either want or need to use artificial means in order to have more. No doubt anticipating the incredulity such news would inspire in readers, the above story ends with quotes from several fertility specialists. "Who am I to say that six is the limit?" one said, while the other commented, "I don't think it's our job to tell them how many babies they're allowed to have. I am not a policeman for reproduction in the United States." True enough, but I don't think there will be any shortage of others willing to fill in the passing judgment void.
My grandfather always decried the unhappy focus of the news, and today's headlines would offer him no respite. First we have the latest depressing statistic on the economy; apparently we're doomed to a deep recession. (Side note: I'm rather surprised the media hasn't started stirring up fears of a depression. Probably they want to hold onto that one for next month, so as not to waste the recession momentum they've built up. UPDATE Mar 11, 2009: The Freakonomics post today is entitled "Yes we're in a depression", referring to the opinion of a new book.) Elsewhere in the news we hear that the peanut plant responsible for countless contaminated products should have recalled their peanut paste--or at least checked production thoroughly for source of salmonella--2 YEARS ago. And then there's ExxonMobil, who posted ANOTHER record breaking year of profits. Happy news for stockholders, but a sad statement for those of us concerned about deep imbalances in the world.
And last but not least is the news that former San Francisco Giant Bobby Estalella is ready to testify against teammate Barry Bonds in the grandaddy of all steroids cases. It's obvious Estalella was on something during his time with the Giants. No one gets as ripped as the catcher was during the 2000 season just naturally. And given that he and Bonds shared a locker room and a trainer, it's not surprising he may have some insight into Bonds' fellow bulkiness at the time.
Some may view the firming up of the anti-Bonds case as good news, and you might think that as a fan of baseball I'd be one of them. But in this instance I can't get happy over news of impending justice. In truth, the steroid years offered some of the most fun, exciting sports spectating I've ever witnessed. And in fairness to the doped-up players, the use of all performance enhancing drugs was not strictly forbidden at the time (never mind that users hid their habits because they sensed it was wrong and were playing Russian roulette with their bodies to boot--idiocy and self destruction have never been outlawed). As much as I may want to, it's not fair to judge past actions using today's standards.
But then Bonds isn't being tried for his use of steroids, past or present; it's the lying about it that is at issue in this case. Which is why my unwillingness to celebrate his demise befuddles even me. Maybe it's my compassion coming out. After all, Bonds has become persona non grata in what was virtually his entire world, which can't feel nice. Maybe it's me healthily letting go of the past. But more likely it's just a desire to not have to hear about unpleasant things and a wish to return to a slightly delusional present. After all, how can bad news get me down if it doesn't exist? There, I'm feeling much happier now. :)
January 16, 2009
Childbirth
What a difference a few hours make. Shortly after I published that last post I went in for what I assumed would be a routine prenatal check of my blood pressure and the baby's in utero movements. I didn't realize a year would have passed before I stepped foot outside the medical center again.
Okay, maybe I did have a bit of a premonition. Before leaving for my 3pm appointment I added a few last things to my hospital bag and made up a separate bag for David. I took a nice long shower and shaved my legs, coated my dry skin in lotion, and made sure the last of my laundry was in the dryer. Also, my doctor had told me that on these checks, if results were not as they expect then tests would escalate and could ultimately result in my being admitted for baby delivery.
But in the back of my mind I operated from an expectation that I'd be headed for a family dinner that evening as planned. I felt no signs of labor (wasn't even having Braxton Hicks or other early labor symptoms). Both David and I had been born late, so the "estimated due date" being 2 days hence was not much of a concern for me. The one hiccup was that my blood pressure was measuring consistently high when I went in for my last checks, even though at home each day it was within non-worrisome range. In short, I was comfortable with the idea that there was still time before baby came.
If nature had run its course, maybe I'd have been proven right. Who knows, who cares. Long story short, my blood pressure was high again and the baby did not cooperate with any of the fetal monitoring (he basically "failed" or didn't meet the protocol for 3 different, consecutive tests). After 6 hours of monitoring (plus 1 surreptitious dinner and a pros/cons talk with David) I ended up agreeing to be admitted and induced into labor. I was put into a lovely private labor and delivery room at 10pm, was sucking down fluids via IV by 11pm (apparently I was dehydrated on top of everything else), and dilated to 8cm (out of 10), by 11pm...the next day. Yup, a whole day passed of drug induced contractions before I would be considered to be in active labor.
Meanwhile the entire family arrived in eager anticipation. I wasn't writhing in pain for most of the day and company provided a nice distraction from the twinges and boredom. I enjoyed hearing reports of life in the waiting room and bets the family had made on when baby would be born. Nurses kept asking me what my pain level was, and I hemmed and hawed over how to characterize generally minor or at least completely manageable discomfort. I put the TV on a soothing music/nature images channel and dozed for minutes at a time. Early on I asked for and got a telemetry monitoring unit so I could walk around my room. I had a birthing ball to sit on during contractions, and David rubbed my back and offered me my iPod loaded with "labor tunes". After a while though even these things lost their comforting effectiveness. The waiting room crowd grew restless and started considering going home for the night. I wished I could join them, if only for a change of scenery.
As night settled in, the augmentation really started getting somewhere. I felt steady and painful contractions. Noting the time elapsed, progress left to be made, and my tired and hungry state, I asked for and got an epidural. Suddenly things were looking up. The intravenous pitocin (augmentation method #3) sent me from 5.5 to 8cm dilated in a little over 2 hours. The nurse who was set to leave at 11pm was optimistic that baby would arrive on her shift. Family settled back into their uncomfortable chairs and inane chitchat. David tidied up our stuff in the room in anticipation of the final phase. The only hiccup was that the fetal monitors kept moving out of position, and the nurses would have to readjust them constantly. Somewhere along the way the pitocin got dialed way down (basically, off). Progress slowed.
So I've been in my fashionable hospital gown for 24 hours at this point. Nurses cranked pitocin back up, at a faster rate than before. Contractions and pain built back up and then some. They switched to a fetal scalp monitor for baby, and hooked me up to some other monitor to measure intensity of contractions, plus gave me oxygen. However, even well after the amniotic sac had been broken, the baby hadn't dropped much more than where he was when I started all this, and certainly not enough to warrant pushing. So on with the contractions and monitoring and bedriddenness and "how's your pain level now?" we continue.
The epidural helped some with the discomforts of labor, but by the time I was 9.5cm (and holding) I had developed these weird muscle spasms in my hip that made virtually every position I could be in unsustainable and distracting. (And David tells me now that my epidural line might have been dislodged at some point, I dunno about that.) I was excited for what was to come, but with little dramatic progress and going into day 2 of no rest or substantive food, I started wearing down. I wanted to get up and move around, but the epidural made that impossible. I think I might have started dwelling on this deep desire to just stand up for a moment, but no one else thought attempting to do so was a safe idea. Again, in hindsight, who knows, who cares.
Doctors checked and rechecked the baby's position. There's a bit of cervix in the way of baby's dropping; I'm sort of stalled out at 9.5 cm. Dr. Mason tried to ease baby's head past this spot. More checking ("Sorry, you'll feel a bit of pressure" they'd all begin with, which always made me laugh.) Two people think Mason's maneuver has done the trick, but another thinks it hasn't. Okay, not an insurmountable issue. Another hour of contractions and we decide I'm dilated enough (turns out it's a subjective thing). Start pushing. Great, I thought, I can do something other than just lay here waiting for pain. It would be a relief to help things along, and I gathered my energy for the final stage.
Four hours later I was nearly useless. My concentration was completely erratic. I'd be in the zone for one contraction, then could only manage half hearted pushing on the next. The shift change had brought two nice but not terribly helpful nurses. David seemed eager to help but at a loss as to what I needed. Looking back I think my difficulty stemmed from being too "in my head" about things. I feel most confident and comfortable with new tasks when I get to process, attempt, evaluate, and retry. Good or bad, it's just who I am and generally it works for me. Well that sort of process just doesn't work when time is of the essence.
During childbirth there are contractions coming one after another with little time in between to regroup, more less think about things coherently and plan a better attempt on the next round. You have to just push, breathe, push. Let go of the pain in the hip, ignore the uncontrollable body shakes, block out the well intentioned queries from your partner, and forget watching the electronic monitor for a visual on when each contraction begins, peaks, and ends. Push. Breathe. Push. I'm doing what I can, but baby is still not dropping.
At the next doctor check David and I asked what our options were. She reported that baby still had a ways to go, but of course things can change rapidly. Pushing was making some headway, if I could just continue with it. That was the question. The doctor had me push through a few contractions, and I did my best. But the shaking and the hip pain and the inability to focus my eyes and the headache that came from holding my breath while I pushed (which was only productive method at that point) took up more of my attention than the urging of the baby to drop down and head on out. Doctor would gladly let me push as long as I was willing, but the lack of progress would warrant a c-section, if I wanted it. David and I did not hesitate to accept that offer.
From then on, everything went absolutely smoothly. The doctors and nurses who prepped me and did the surgery were wonderfully courteous, informative, and professional. The procedure was complication-free, my recovery was swift, and we had a perfect little year-end tax deduction, I mean, baby boy. ;)
I'm sorry to report I couldn't clear my head when faced with the pain and exhaustion of childbirth. Sorry only because I would have liked to learn to do it. You don't get many such opportunities. However, don't read too much into this, because I am not in the least bit sorry about choosing the c-section in this instance. I did not then, nor do I now, feel in any way cheated out of a natural birth experience. I would have preferred not to have had my labor induced because I know where it tends to lead, but at the same time I know why medically all the doctors who saw me that first day recommended doing so. My body and mind were not ready to deliver the baby naturally that day. However, as soon as Adam was delivered we could see that he was completely ready to be out in the world, and we were more than happy to have him with us at last.
Okay, maybe I did have a bit of a premonition. Before leaving for my 3pm appointment I added a few last things to my hospital bag and made up a separate bag for David. I took a nice long shower and shaved my legs, coated my dry skin in lotion, and made sure the last of my laundry was in the dryer. Also, my doctor had told me that on these checks, if results were not as they expect then tests would escalate and could ultimately result in my being admitted for baby delivery.
But in the back of my mind I operated from an expectation that I'd be headed for a family dinner that evening as planned. I felt no signs of labor (wasn't even having Braxton Hicks or other early labor symptoms). Both David and I had been born late, so the "estimated due date" being 2 days hence was not much of a concern for me. The one hiccup was that my blood pressure was measuring consistently high when I went in for my last checks, even though at home each day it was within non-worrisome range. In short, I was comfortable with the idea that there was still time before baby came.
If nature had run its course, maybe I'd have been proven right. Who knows, who cares. Long story short, my blood pressure was high again and the baby did not cooperate with any of the fetal monitoring (he basically "failed" or didn't meet the protocol for 3 different, consecutive tests). After 6 hours of monitoring (plus 1 surreptitious dinner and a pros/cons talk with David) I ended up agreeing to be admitted and induced into labor. I was put into a lovely private labor and delivery room at 10pm, was sucking down fluids via IV by 11pm (apparently I was dehydrated on top of everything else), and dilated to 8cm (out of 10), by 11pm...the next day. Yup, a whole day passed of drug induced contractions before I would be considered to be in active labor.
Meanwhile the entire family arrived in eager anticipation. I wasn't writhing in pain for most of the day and company provided a nice distraction from the twinges and boredom. I enjoyed hearing reports of life in the waiting room and bets the family had made on when baby would be born. Nurses kept asking me what my pain level was, and I hemmed and hawed over how to characterize generally minor or at least completely manageable discomfort. I put the TV on a soothing music/nature images channel and dozed for minutes at a time. Early on I asked for and got a telemetry monitoring unit so I could walk around my room. I had a birthing ball to sit on during contractions, and David rubbed my back and offered me my iPod loaded with "labor tunes". After a while though even these things lost their comforting effectiveness. The waiting room crowd grew restless and started considering going home for the night. I wished I could join them, if only for a change of scenery.
As night settled in, the augmentation really started getting somewhere. I felt steady and painful contractions. Noting the time elapsed, progress left to be made, and my tired and hungry state, I asked for and got an epidural. Suddenly things were looking up. The intravenous pitocin (augmentation method #3) sent me from 5.5 to 8cm dilated in a little over 2 hours. The nurse who was set to leave at 11pm was optimistic that baby would arrive on her shift. Family settled back into their uncomfortable chairs and inane chitchat. David tidied up our stuff in the room in anticipation of the final phase. The only hiccup was that the fetal monitors kept moving out of position, and the nurses would have to readjust them constantly. Somewhere along the way the pitocin got dialed way down (basically, off). Progress slowed.
So I've been in my fashionable hospital gown for 24 hours at this point. Nurses cranked pitocin back up, at a faster rate than before. Contractions and pain built back up and then some. They switched to a fetal scalp monitor for baby, and hooked me up to some other monitor to measure intensity of contractions, plus gave me oxygen. However, even well after the amniotic sac had been broken, the baby hadn't dropped much more than where he was when I started all this, and certainly not enough to warrant pushing. So on with the contractions and monitoring and bedriddenness and "how's your pain level now?" we continue.
The epidural helped some with the discomforts of labor, but by the time I was 9.5cm (and holding) I had developed these weird muscle spasms in my hip that made virtually every position I could be in unsustainable and distracting. (And David tells me now that my epidural line might have been dislodged at some point, I dunno about that.) I was excited for what was to come, but with little dramatic progress and going into day 2 of no rest or substantive food, I started wearing down. I wanted to get up and move around, but the epidural made that impossible. I think I might have started dwelling on this deep desire to just stand up for a moment, but no one else thought attempting to do so was a safe idea. Again, in hindsight, who knows, who cares.
Doctors checked and rechecked the baby's position. There's a bit of cervix in the way of baby's dropping; I'm sort of stalled out at 9.5 cm. Dr. Mason tried to ease baby's head past this spot. More checking ("Sorry, you'll feel a bit of pressure" they'd all begin with, which always made me laugh.) Two people think Mason's maneuver has done the trick, but another thinks it hasn't. Okay, not an insurmountable issue. Another hour of contractions and we decide I'm dilated enough (turns out it's a subjective thing). Start pushing. Great, I thought, I can do something other than just lay here waiting for pain. It would be a relief to help things along, and I gathered my energy for the final stage.
Four hours later I was nearly useless. My concentration was completely erratic. I'd be in the zone for one contraction, then could only manage half hearted pushing on the next. The shift change had brought two nice but not terribly helpful nurses. David seemed eager to help but at a loss as to what I needed. Looking back I think my difficulty stemmed from being too "in my head" about things. I feel most confident and comfortable with new tasks when I get to process, attempt, evaluate, and retry. Good or bad, it's just who I am and generally it works for me. Well that sort of process just doesn't work when time is of the essence.
During childbirth there are contractions coming one after another with little time in between to regroup, more less think about things coherently and plan a better attempt on the next round. You have to just push, breathe, push. Let go of the pain in the hip, ignore the uncontrollable body shakes, block out the well intentioned queries from your partner, and forget watching the electronic monitor for a visual on when each contraction begins, peaks, and ends. Push. Breathe. Push. I'm doing what I can, but baby is still not dropping.
At the next doctor check David and I asked what our options were. She reported that baby still had a ways to go, but of course things can change rapidly. Pushing was making some headway, if I could just continue with it. That was the question. The doctor had me push through a few contractions, and I did my best. But the shaking and the hip pain and the inability to focus my eyes and the headache that came from holding my breath while I pushed (which was only productive method at that point) took up more of my attention than the urging of the baby to drop down and head on out. Doctor would gladly let me push as long as I was willing, but the lack of progress would warrant a c-section, if I wanted it. David and I did not hesitate to accept that offer.
From then on, everything went absolutely smoothly. The doctors and nurses who prepped me and did the surgery were wonderfully courteous, informative, and professional. The procedure was complication-free, my recovery was swift, and we had a perfect little year-end tax deduction, I mean, baby boy. ;)
I'm sorry to report I couldn't clear my head when faced with the pain and exhaustion of childbirth. Sorry only because I would have liked to learn to do it. You don't get many such opportunities. However, don't read too much into this, because I am not in the least bit sorry about choosing the c-section in this instance. I did not then, nor do I now, feel in any way cheated out of a natural birth experience. I would have preferred not to have had my labor induced because I know where it tends to lead, but at the same time I know why medically all the doctors who saw me that first day recommended doing so. My body and mind were not ready to deliver the baby naturally that day. However, as soon as Adam was delivered we could see that he was completely ready to be out in the world, and we were more than happy to have him with us at last.
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