Ten on Tuesday

1. These pink shoes are the same pink shoes I used to nonverbally announce the girlness of baby #1. I would have been thrilled to have a boy, I'm sure, but I'll admit that the thought of another daughter makes me very, very, very happy.

2. We thought we had a name all picked out, a lovely first-and-middle name combo. And then I googled it. I don't think it's possible for a search result to have been more sullying than the search result it generated. Nothing wrong with the name itself, but the icky actions of a person who has it did it in. I think we've come up with an even better alternative.

3. I gave up on the hair donation project. It wasn't so much a desire to have short hair again - though there was that - as a realization that I do not have the kind of hair that can grow long. It was splitting off like crazy, and never would have been strong enough to be woven into a wig. Sadly in my haste to hack it off I didn't take a picture; it was really long, for me. Now it's nice and short.

4. A couple weeks ago I lead a youth study on Glee, based on a curriculum downloaded from The Thoughtful Christian. We watched some clips and read some scripture passages, and discussed them in relation. It went really well. No boys showed up, but the girls' observations were thoughtful and mature. I continue to be so impressed with The Thoughtful Christian resources.

5. I just read Pillars of the Earth in a week and a half. I could barely put it down while I was reading it, it's so engrossingly soap operatic.

6. There are a lot more "serious" books on my list I intend to tackle, but I still haven't quite regained full brain function since finishing my book. One of these days...

7. On Sunday afternoon we decided to head downtown to The Magnificent Mile, the stretch of Michigan Avenue that is lined with stores. I had been under the impression that a Gap is a Gap is a Gap, but I was wrong, wrong, wrong. I nearly cried when I saw the vastness of the Maternity section. For whatever reason, a lot of the maternity clothes in my stash do not fit me very well this time around, even some of the staples I wore all the time when I was pregnant with Juliette. I got a handful of clearance clothes that will hopefully fill in the wardrobe gaps. (Particularly the gap in the general area of my lower back.)

8. We dared take Juliette into the American Girl Place store. She immediately kicked into a gear we've never before witnessed; normally, if she goes to a toy store, she finds a favored section and methodically and meticulously studies the toys therein. But at the AGP, she speedwalked through all the aisles, circling and weaving and completely wearing her parents out as we tried to chase after her. Thankfully, we managed to escape without a full-fledged tantrum. I'm fairly sure I would have thrown a fit large enough to merit law enforcement intervention had I been asked to leave such a doll store empty-handed at her age.

9. I will have twelve weeks of paid maternity leave.








That was a moment of silence as I pondered how extremely grateful I am to have been given such a great maternity leave policy.

10. My fantasy career is to be a radio deejay. And, thanks to a church member whose daughter is a student manager at the local (award-winning) high school radio station, I'm going to have my chance. On April 11th from 7-8pm Central Time, I'll be the guest DJ on WLTL 88.1. You can stream it here. My radio show title? The Reverend Rocks. Though it should probably be mentioned that I'm using the word "Rocks" rather generously. It's probably going to be a little more countrified than that. I'm super nervous but so very excited.

Chicken Escapades

Juliette and I just got back from a quick but wonderful two-day jaunt to visit friends south of Indianapolis. Most of our time was spent with Anna, Ben, Mia, and Jed. Their backyard has become one of my very favorite places on earth. We decided to lay low all day yesterday, eating homemade Pad Thai (among other homemade delicacies), hanging out by the campfire, and, of course, watching the chickens.The last time we were there, we witnessed some Seriously Cute Toddler Flirting between Juliette and Jed.
I suppose what unfolded this time was merely the natural progression.

Jed is a really good driver. Like, not even just for a four year old. He's better than a lot of drivers I've encountered in Chicago. Juliette was thoroughly enjoying her ride.But then trouble brewed. Mind you, I'm not remotely making up the following dialogue exchange. It really happened.

As they turned the corner, we heard Juliette shout, "We're going to get stuck!""No we're not," Jed said, in an ever-so-slightly hen-pecked tone of voice."We're fine." End of conversation.
The grown-ups laughed so hard we nearly fell off our chairs.

Juliette has just as much love for Mia; her only full-fledged meltdown of the trip was on account of having to part from Mia last night.

Truly, the only thing better than spending time with some of my oldest and dearest friends is knowing that we're totally setting our kids up to be oldest and dearest friends, too.

Sigh

I've been sighing a lot lately. Sighing is such a biological marvel: the deep exhalation that can convey so many emotions. Lamentation. Frustration. Exhaustion. Contentment.

I feel like it was just yesterday we were compulsively checking for updates about oil spewing into the Gulf, and the day before that following the immediate aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti. Now it's uncontainable radiation, another earthquake. Another tsunami. Such a devastating combination of natural and human disasters.

And, as always, there's the life that goes on in your own home, in between readings of the New York Times and prayers for those who are suffering. Last summer my concern for the Gulf was often overshadowed by our cross-country move; if I remember correctly, the oil started leaking just days before we boarded the plane. I think I will always associate the news of recent days with this spate of mind-boggling temper tantrums Juliette's been throwing several times a day. (Unless, of course, these mind-boggling temper tantrums continue for weeks/months/years to come. I'm not ready to go there.)

I've never been the type to push the comparative gratitude thing; i.e., the "there are people who are hungry, so be glad you have broccoli on your plate" thing. The whole project of meditating on other peoples' misfortunes or sufferings to make oneself feel better is off-putting to me. And yet, so many times this week I've found myself at my wit's end (pregnancy greatly reduces the length of my wit), only to remember the mothers and three-year-old daughters who have endured not only a massive earthquake (one of my deepest fears), an unfathomable tsunami, and now the fear of toxic radiation.

And worse, the mothers and three-year-old daughters who did not endure, who did not survive.

And I sigh.

:::

Short Letters to Inanimate Objects

Elizabeth has a wonderful series on her blog entitled Short Letters to Famous People. (You can read the latest installment here.) In the same spirit I present: Short Letters to Inanimate Objects.

***
Dear Puttanesca Sauce,

How did I live so long without experiencing your utter fabulousness? While reading Belong to Me by Marisa de los Santos, I fell in love with the idea of you. The character Cornelia explains, "truth be told, spaghetti alla puttanesca is a wee bit indecent, a rather lowly dish. Life-alteringly, soul-healingly scrumptious, but lowly. In fact, for reasons best left obscure, 'puttanesca' derives from the Italian word for 'whore.'" Full of olives and capers and - gasp - anchovies - I wasn't sure you'd be family-friendly enough for the Persheys. But as it turned out, we had a jar of you in our pantry, from a Christmas basket full of Ohio-grown delicacies. Having polished that jar off, we've moved on to the more readily-available Trader Joe's version. Life-alteringly, soul-healingly scrumptious, indeed.

***
Dear Honda Fit,

We felt pretty good about you when we bought you last September. Having done our homework, we knew you had a reputation for reliability and safety. I quickly learned you are marvelously manuverable. Dude, I can even parallel park behind your wheel. And then in December, my friend Allison was in a bad car accident in her Honda Fit. The car was destroyed. She was fine. Now she shows strangers pictures of her mangled old Honda Fit when they ask her if she likes her new Honda Fit.

So, thanks. Really. From the bottom of my heart: thanks.

***

Dear Swimming Pool at LA Fitness,

Thank you for being full of warm water, and mostly empty of people. When I was pregnant with Juliette what I wanted to do more than anything - anything - was swim, but I didn't have access to a pool. I only manage to visit you once or twice a week, but you're making me feel so much happier and healthier. You are not, on the other hand, making my hair very happy or healthy...

***

Dear Hair,

So, you are nowhere near as long as you must be before I can cut you off and send you off to Locks of Love. But I'm seriously wondering if you have it in you to get there. Even before the reintroduction of swimming into my fitness routine, you were taking this length experiment pretty lousily. Now your ends are snapping off like sugar peas.

***

Dear Liz Lange Dress,

I am so, so, so glad I bought you, even if I had to pay full price to make you mine. Even though you're a little faded this time around, you're still perfect: the funky gray flowers growing on a dark teal background, and that golden ribbon! It ain't easy being pregnant, and super cute maternity clothes make all the difference in the world. Even though I can't wear you bare-legged and -armed like I did during the summer in California, with a cardigan and tights you can even make an appearance during winter in Illinois.

Funky Wedding Dresses

When I see this picture, taken just a few moments before Ben and I walked down the aisle, hand in hand, to be married, several thoughts immediately come to mind.In no particular order:
Why hadn't anyone told me about eyebrow pencils?
We look so young.
There is such a thing as too blond.
So glad we took the leap.
I adore that pink dress in retrospect every bit as much as I did on July 13th, 2002.

I struggled to find a dress. I knew I didn't want to spend a lot of money, and that I didn't really want to wear white. White is not my color. I'm sure if I had walked into a decent bridal store - something I never once did during our engagement - a salesperson well-versed in the infinite shades of white could have come up with just the right ivory hue, but I just wasn't into it.

I still have wedding dress #1, purchased at Bebe in Hollywood when I was on my seminary visitation weekend. It was champagne-colored lace, and altogether too short. Not like, "oops, my ankles are showing" short. Short. I only just started wearing it last fall, thanks to the addition of leggings in my wardrobe.

On to wedding dress #2. Light pink. Delia*s. Fifty bucks. I loved it. Loved it. The dress itself, and the fabulously low price tag.

A couple months ago I received a marketing email from Anthropologie about their new wedding dress line. I'm not especially into fashion these days. I did do a bit of shopping last fall when I realized I did not really have a lot of professional Midwestern clothes in my closet, and I do love a good Anthropologie sweater clearance.

I did not expect to be utterly transported by a wedding dress line. I, who never so much as read a wedding magazine in the public library.

But, oh, BHLDN is so lovely.

Their catalog isn't as cheap as my bridal gown, but $50 is admittedly hard to beat. Especially almost nine years later. But they're moderately reasonable, probably in the same ballpark as the gowns at David's Bridal. And they have so much spunk.

I think I would have picked this one, had it been an option.
And this one... um, if I ever officiate a wedding and the bride is wearing this, I might be the one to pass out.
Their bridesmaid dresses are fab, too. So maybe there's still hope for me yet...