In transition

I’m just playing along with Pensieve this fine November morning.

The air is crisp and cool, my breath plumes as timid dog paws pick their way around frost dusted leaves. The sky is no longer the brilliant blue of summer, but promising rays of sun still keep Old Man Winter at arm’s length.

A few moments ago I was flipping through a magazine lying about. The ad quoted a man described as a “legendary home fragrance expert.”

I don’t quite know why this tickles me to the core, but it does.

If those active in the Friendfeed arena can feel free to blame Robert Scoble for contributing to the doom and gloom that is fueling the downward spiral of the US (and world) economy, then I should feel perfectly validated blaming him for my own uncomfortable situation.

It all started with a sushi dinner on Saturday night, closing the ConvergeSouth weekend. I have fondness for sushi that borders on obsessive; I can daydream about it for months on end silently trying to outlast my husband’s willpower. (Have I ever mentioned I’m neurotic?) Once the magical night of sushi arrives, I gorge and leave sated with a touch of guilt. Saturday was no different.  Robert and a lady I don’t know well assumed the role of sushi selectors. This was fine by me, I always take the easy road and leave it up to the chef.

I nod sagely as I am told what each piece is, but my greedy American nature always wins. When no one is staring to see me fumble with my chopsticks I stuff my face and moan inwardly with delight.

Plate after plate of jewel colored fish arrived. I bemoaned leaving my camera in the hotel room as I sampled and asked for the plates to be passed down to my end. I’m somewhat convinced that most of the guests will gladly blame the gentleman across from me for the rapid disappearance of food, but I can assure you as sake toasts were raised I was reloading my plate.

But Heather, that sounds like a lovely evening, why are you blaming Robert Scoble for all the whining you’ve done over the past few days?

Have patience my dear readers, patience.

Monday evening it was my mission to atone for my sushi sins with a productive session at the gym. Near the end of class I was lying on my back, scissor kicking with my heels six inches off the floor, silently cursing my instructor and his future descendants when I felt a subtle pop. A twinge. Not the sweet relief of a joint cracking, just a feeling of something giving way.

As I walked to the parking lot, pain was shooting down the back of my leg and my calf was tingling.

Yes, it’s a minor injury, simply a pulled muscle that is affecting my sciatic nerve, but as anyone will tell you back injuries rarely feel minor and the past two days have been dulled by the haze of a prescription muscle relaxant and the soothing warmth of a heating pad. This my friends is why I have neglected to share stories of those wondeful people with whom I basked the flourescent glow of geekery.

It’s all Mr. Scoble’s fault.

The past few days have been great, on many levels. The break from my usual routine was needed. While I have geektastic friends in the Lowcountry blogosphere it was very freeing to spend four days submerged in an orgy of geek.

While most of my family will simply read this and say “Who?” I must brag that I had dinner with Robert Scoble twice. Thursday night, at a small Italian restaurant where I ordered poorly. I thought the menu said Chicken Parmesan, but when it arrived it was actually Chicken Parmebland, my mistake. (Yes, this is exactly why we’re having chicken parmesan tonight). Saturday night was sushi, gorgeous, tasty sushi. I regret not bringing my camera as it was a foodie’s dream.

I’m still processing the weekend, visiting new sites, confirming new connections, and catching up on work. It may be a day or two before I find all the pictures I want to share and link to all the great people I met.

So far I’ve abstained from nearly every political discussion. I’m Libertarian and so disappointed with each candidate that I will be choosing the one who seems to least oppose my views. At the moment the political race is depressing at best. I do not feel Obama floated down on a cloud to save us all nor do I find McCain remotely appealing. Yet, this is not my beef. 

This is a weird a time for me. Like most people I have several circles of acquaintances based on shared experience. In one I can tell I’m seen as the fruitcake conservative and in another I feel marginalized for being the liberal whacko. Thankfully, those I call my friends tolerate my opinions when I choose to share them.

What has me so pissed off at the moment is an attitude running rampant throughout several platforms in which I visit and participate. The belief that one person is superior to another for an opinion based decision makes my skin crawl. We vote because we are a democratic republic. There are going to be losers in this election. The people that voted for them are still your neighbors, friends, and coworkers. They are not suddenly idiots because of one opinion based decision. (I’m not saying morons don’t exist.)

I fully understand the need, desire, and excitement felt by someone who is fired up by a  cause. I get it. What I don’t get is the hatred spreading on both sides of the aisle. It’s sinister and it needs to stop. On November 4th I and most of my friends and acquaintances will step into a booth, pull a curtain, and make choices, hard choices. They are based on opinions, hopes, and unfortunately fears. The choices my friends make does not lessen them in my eyes if it does not agree with my own. They are not idiots, racists, bigots, or stupid if they choose differently. We all live have to live with the outcome in November.

Web design, writing, horseback riding, meal delivery, that’s what weekends are made of.

I’m beat. Please remind me of days like today the next time I mention boredom.

Have I mentioned that I get to go to Google’s Ribbon Cutting on Tuesday? No? Well, you must be one of the few people I don’t bore to tears on a regular basis. I’m so excited I can’t stand myself.

The process by which the increase in length of time on earth is equal to the increase in the likelihood of injuring oneself while sleeping.

AKA

Why can’t I turn my head this morning?

Wednesday morning a chorus of angels broke out into the Hallelujah Chorus. I opened my eyes and listened to the strains of the hymn as it slowly dawned on me that I had not moved since falling asleep the evening before. It has been a very long time, years, since I have had the luxury of not being awoken in the middle of the night. Someone in the peanut gallery may say, “But you didn’t have children at the conference back in April!” Ah, that person has never been a nursing mother or they would know about having to pump thanks to being in tune with the baby’s cycle, even when said baby is ninety miles away.

For over five years I have been pregnant, nursing, or both. I am ready to have my body back and to move on to watching our family grow rather than actively fueling its growth. Ellie is weaning and only the tiniest part of me feels a touch of regret. The rest of me will dance out to the dumpster and gleefully throw away my nursing bras with their snarled elastic and bent hooks.

Please don’t misunderstand, breastfeeding is a beautiful thing. I am glad to have done this for them, but I’m also glad to have the freedom of once again belonging more to myself.

September seventeen, for a girl I know it’s Mother’s Day ~ Tragically Hip

I first fell in love with the words of this song in my late teens.

We hoped and tried for eighteen months, turning to a fertility specialist. My first appointment involved bloodwork to check thyroid levels. That bloodwork also showed I was finally pregnant. We thanked the specialist for their quick and effective program. 

It was a tumultous pregnancy, first Tim was laid off when the silicon industry slowed. He found work as an electrician for Ameristeel. I worked for a nice restaurant, waiting tables and cooking. In June I began having complications and was hospitalized on July 1 for pre-term labor. I was 27 weeks pregnant, but the magnesium sulfate stopped my labor. Five years ago I joined the ranks of motherhood as my little man joined the world kicking and screaming.

Happy birthday little man.

Happy birthday.

This is to remind myself that yes, they can all be clean and happy at the same time.

Ellie still isn’t walking, but she’s finally sleeping better, which means I’m sleeping better.  As if by magic the blinding headaches I’ve been muddling through have ended. Consequently, I am happier and probably more pleasant person. No comments from the peanut gallery, please. 

As per usual there are a lot of things happening both in the local blogosphere and with Home Ec 101 that keep me busy. Last night Eugene helped organize a meet-up at Fiery Ron’s Home Team BBQ. The food was good, the atmosphere was casual, the staff was nice, and of course the company was great. I was truly happy to meet Raymond and Larry, both relatively new to blogging, but quite informed about the changing state of media. 

Last night’s conversation did nothing but stoke the excitement I feel about ConvergeSouth. I may have a partner for the roadtrip, which is also exciting.

Ten years ago I didn’t see life outside of the restaurant industry, eight years ago I was double majoring in Biochem and Biology, five years ago I was anxiously awaiting the birth of my first child. The twists and turns of life amuse me greatly.