Mac(smith) Attack

On being a mother...

My relationship with my seven week, six day old son:

I sing his praises, extol his virtues, and generally (and probably loudly) celebrate his off-the-charts intelligence and adorableness.  And he spews liquid all over me.  And then all over him.

And I don't totally mind. 

Vroom vroom

When I was a teenager I could. not. wait. to get my license.  I was a very extracurricular kind of teen, with lots of stuff going on all the time, and I went to high school a couple towns over from my home.  Naturally, this meant I needed transportation to and from any number of destinations.  There were two mass transit options - the public bus and the school bus, and neither was particularly appealing, though at twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen I gave each a fair amount of trying, all the while thinking about how I COULD NOT WAIT to drive. 

When I got my learner's permit, I couldn't get behind the wheel fast enough.  I'm sure it was a bittersweet thing for my parents, who could see the light at the end of the "pick me up at..." tunnel, but there is sure to be a certain amount of unease when your child can operate a motor vehicle.  But.  As soon as I was learning that very skill, the world was my oyster.   Hours were spent dreaming of the Epic Road Trips and Grand Adventures I would undertake.  They'd be made all the more grand because, at first, I was not allowed to drive on the highway.  This inspired a loose plan/movie idea, which I later adapted (or changed altogether), with the very catchy and fabulous title "Back Roads to Vegas." 

I got my license on December 14, 1999.  I know you think I'm a freak for knowing that, but if you know me at all it shouldn't surprise you.  I was sixteen and eight months (and three days, but that's a little too specific for the purposes of story telling, isn't it?).  I quickly found a way to usurp my mother's Oldsmobile station wagon, dropping her off at work on my way to school and often leaving her to take the bus home (really it was just up the street - not nearly the half-hour-two-bus-escapade I was reduced to when I had to take the bus... and I don't think she really minded all that much... and it wasn't every day, just a few days a week).  And, oh, the times that were had in that wagon. 

Don't be dirty!  I was not that kind of girl.  Or at any rate, I didn't know any kind of boy that would make me that kind of girl.  My friends and I would pile into that car (named Evil Bill, in homage to that wonder of wonders, Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey.  Becca's guitar was Evil Ted.) and set out on adventure.  Or if not adventure, a ride home, a trip to an all night pancake house where the waitress knew our name, a trip to the beach in the middle of the night in the middle of the winter, or a quick trip to the store to get a ridiculous hodge podge of snackery. 

Evil Bill was laid to rest after many a road trip, an adventure, and a late night drive around Rhode Island - done in by an Acura in DC in 2002.  Next came Sebastian the Jetta, who semi-died tragically right before I was to drive from Alexandria, VA to Grove City, PA in 2006.  Sebastian was revived and given to my brother - and later totally died and sat around in a driveway for a couple years.  Sebastian was replaced by a work Jeep Liberty, who was replaced with a work Dodge Charger (that I HATED, had no personality, and was a beast to park).  Then began my joint car phase, as I was engaged at that point, and I left that job, and I had no real money, and so Derek and I bought cars together from then on... A VW GTI, a Chevy Tahoe, another Jeep Liberty (which I still have)...

I sit here on the date my child is due to be born, literally just sitting around and waiting for his arrival, and thinking about my vehicular history.  Remembering fondly my exuberance for the open road and the thrill I felt when I first took the car out on my own (circa December 15, 1999), I can only wish my kid grows up with the same yen for adventure as I had.  I bet he will.

We'll be undertaking our first road trip around April 3, 2011 - this little boy has no idea what he's in for!  I won't be allowing him to drive, though.  I ain't no Britney Spears (though she provided a kickass soundtrack to some of my earlier driving escapades).

Huckleberry Finn

I'm not afraid to admit that I'm a liberal.  I suppose as liberals go, I'm fairly moderate, but still: I'm liberal.  So, let's talk about the recent scandal involving a novel originally published one hundred and seventeen years ago: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Apparently, there is a publisher (NewSouth Books) who is releasing a revised version of the classic, removing the word "nigger" and "Injun" from the book.  They plan to replace "the N word" with "slave" and I haven't read what they plan to replace "Injun" with, but I'm kind of amused at the thought ("Oh no! Look out, Huck! It's Native American Joe!").  As far as I know, not every publisher is jumping on this bandwagon and the original will still be available to be read and purchased, but this new edition is gaining a considerable amount of press because of this revision.

Now, before we delve into the issue of censorship, let me say quite clearly: along with my liberal tendencies, I'm also extremely politically correct.  I truly don't like racial slurs and I really cringe at the N word.  In fact, typing it in the paragraph above was hard for me.  I ignore it in songs that I otherwise enjoy, I don't say it, it's an ugly offensive word. 

All of that said: this is a word that has existed for a few hundred years, and like many words, it has evolved in use, in context, and in acceptability.  The novel is set in Missouri - Missouri -- remember?  Missouri Compromise? Slave State?  They had slaves there!  Slavery was - IS - an abominable institution.  BUT IT HAPPENED.  The United States of America was a place where slavery was acceptable for a time.  Not anymore - but it was the case back back back in the day.  So, when Mark Twain - clever, wise, subversive, radical, abolitionist Mark Twain - was writing his two most famous novels (Huck and his pal, Tom), he was writing about more than young boys getting into scrapes.  These stories were commentaries on the day, on the time, on the place.  One of the tools an author has at his disposal for that task is dialogue, and Twain was no exception.  In fact, he may just be the rule - Twain is a master of dialogue and uses his characters' words to bring the world to life, but also comment on that world.  How many other books from 1884 are still read as a part of curriculum in schools across the country? 

I think we need to be clear that preserving the vocabulary of a classic American novel does not condone any word's (or idea's) place in current American society.  On the contrary, when you read "Huck Finn" or any other book from that time, you are gaining a glimpse into history, into the ideology of the day, and honestly, only one guy's opinion of that day.  To make changes to that story, you are at best glossing over history and at worst trying to erase it.   I read one opinion in support of the revisions that said something to the effect of "it's awkward being the only black kid in class and having to read 'that word.'"  I don't deny or discount that opinion - I think it probably should be awkward, because today it's not nice to use that word (don't tell the Rap community, but it's not).  But if we revised every piece of literature for awkwardness, what would we be left with?  Books that have, at some point, been deemed controversial or have been banned -- Animal Farm, Grapes of Wrath, Howl, 1984, The Catcher in the Rye... the list goes on.  I didn't necessarily enjoy all of these books (some of them I downright didn't like), but they have their place.  They are all important pieces of literature - what they said combined with when and how they said it.  Huckleberry Finn is absolutely on that list.

The issue is far larger than a revisionist history being forced into an old book.  This is a book that is widely considered part of the canon of great American Literature and is taught as such in schools across the country.  Here the issue takes a big leap and becomes part of one of the major Issues (with a CAPITAL I!) of our time: Education.  I don't pretend to know everything - or even most things.  If I had a perfect solution to the Education Issue, I'd be in politics, not food service.  I received my high school diploma from a parochial school, albeit a fairly progressive one.  I have a bachelor's degree from a public university, unaffiliated with any religious order.  I have been exposed to many ways of thinking and I happen to tend to agree with the more "liberal" ones.  I am well aware that pretty much any curriculum falls in with someone's political or social agenda, and I will admit that when I read about curricula that line up with "the other side's" ideology I kind of cringe.  I can't help it.  I am sure they do the same thing.  But, ultimately, I believe we should be doing what we can to educate about the way things actually happened.  About what is actually going on in the universe today.  Shouldn't we be teaching our children how to think for themselves and look at the evidence and decide how they feel about it?  Without bias? 

I am going to go look to see if I still have my copy of "Huck Finn" - because when my kid is old enough to read it, he's going to read the original version.  And we'll talk about it.

Being Pregnant & Chilling Out

When I was 14 or so, I started creating my own planners out of blank books.  The planners that were sold in stores didn't meet my strict specifications for what I wanted and needed in an organizer, so I made my own.  And that trend lasted through the next decade or so.  I have always been committed to keeping myself organized, which has been important since I've always had about seventy-three things going on at the same time.

Cut to now, where I only have one job, no time for theatre, and an iPhone, so I'm no longer creating my own planners.  I haven't lost my drive to be organized and my need to plan what's next, though, so imagine my frustration with this pregnancy deal. 

Our estimated due date is March 2.  BUT, as of today's sonogram, he is measuring at 30 weeks, which puts him at mid-February delivery.  I have no idea how long I can keep working, but for the "foreseeable future."  It's so so hard to have no idea when this mommy-adventure is going to begin, to have no sense of when I need to be done at work (hard for me and for them!), to have no concept of what's next (other than, ya know, BABY).  It is truly the most frustrating and difficult emotional time I have experienced since February 2003. 

And all I can do is sit back and wait.  And try to get stuff done, little by little.  And rest when I can, so as to reduce the Braxton Hicks crap (which, incidentally, SUCKS), and to make sure that the Ninja in my uterus is well rested and ready to rock and roll whenever he is fully baked.  Whenever that is.

I guess I knew that pregnant isn't easy.  I mean, I did know that.  But my current dilemma is that what I know intellectually and what I feel emotionally are wildly disconnected.  I KNOW this is a hard time and an emotional experience, but I FEEL like this is the craziest thing in the world and I should be able to deal with it without any problems.  Pregnant women all over the world must understand this, but this isn't what everyone talks about.  I was ready for nausea, which never came, and kind of prepared for fatigue, which came and stayed and kicked my ass, and fairly ready for the swelling and weight gain and belly punches from within.  I didn't really anticipate the stress and guilt and overwhelm.  I should have, I suppose.

So, now, I need to find a way to relax, to unwind, to let all this nonsense go and just go with the flow until he arrives (and all this without the aid of wine or coffee!).

I guess we will just see how it goes... Goodness, that's hard to fathom.

An open letter to the Project Runway Judges:

Be aware: Spoilers.

So.  Putting aside the fact that Gretchen's personality was abhorrent.  Seriously, she was awful.  If I wasn't pregnant, I would have played a delightful drinking game, doing a shot every time she said "I."  "I just really feel that I am such a fantastic designer and I'm so true to myself and who and what I am." Blah-blah-blah-freakin-blah.  Putting aside that she was catty - because they're all catty, and I know this.  Putting aside that she's really annoying when she cries.  Ignoring ALL of those factors because it is a design show:  HOW COULD YOU GIVE HER THE WIN?!  Honestly, her clothes were boring and plain and I don't do animal prints.  And what, Nina Garcia, is "now" about them?  I felt like I was seeing some bizarre 1970s safari adventure.  The jewelry was kind of cool, I grant you, but really?  The clothes were dull.  And all in that ugly mustardy brown with diamonds or leopard print.  Ugly.

I agree that Mondo's collection was the "cousin collection" to Seth Aaron's last season win.  They have a similar design aesthetic in terms of being playful and having fun with color and print.  However, just because it related to last year's win doesn't mean that it wasn't good!  Mondo's work was consistently well made, interesting, and fun to see.  His mastery of color and patterns, not to mention his flawless construction, makes him the clear winner in my book (and, judging from Facebook reactions, the book of everyone else I know).

I further agree that Andy's collection seemed a little one-note and not quite there in terms of winning.  But if his collection was lacking depth of color or contrast, how did Gretchen win?  Also, those pants of hers that you all loved with the chunky leather part? HIDEOUS?  What woman can wear those?  Really.  Ew. 

Perhaps I was swayed, with the rest of America, by a love for Mondo's personality on top of his awesome construction skills and vision.  Perhaps I was further swayed by the pulling on the heartstrings of his HIV positive story.  And Gretchen's egocentricism and negativity and "under the bus" throwing really did turn me off to her.  I do agree with her estimation that strong women are often labeled bitches, but that doesn't mean she wasn't a bitch.  (Although, Ivy, should you really be casting THAT particular stone?)

Ultimately, Mondo's collection showed a more fun, vibrant, and interesting point of view.  While it may not be what fashion is in this exact moment, it is what HIS design aesthetic is and has been throughout the season.  Why did you give the win to a woman who showed us recycled concepts which would blend in with regular and boring stuff that we already see hanging in department stores?  Don't we, the consumer, want to stand out more than that?  There is a way to do effortless ease, while still being exciting and fun.  Gretchen's clothes were not fun!  She did not deserve to win $100,000 and launch an exclusive line on Piperlime.com and have the HP Technology Suite and whatever else it is she won.  She just didn't.  Also, her model walks weird.

Here's hoping Season Nine won't piss me off so much.

Yours most sincerely,

Meggy Preggy

So not to sound snobby or anything....

But being from New England, I just feel a sense of proprietary ownership of a love of the fall.  Granted the whole Pilgrim/Native thing has been wildly romanticized (especially in New England, where we were taught what a big ole party the First Thanksgiving was; no resentment, disease-spreading, or awkward feelings here)... But still - what could be more fall than the leaves changing colors up in Vermont?  Apples - crisp, pie, cider with cinnamon sticks.  Pumpkins, squash, gourds galore... Aren't these things distinctly New England? 

Now that I live in Virginia, I realize that, no.  No, they're not just a thing of the Northeast.  They grow produce everywhere (and, frankly, they probably grow it better in a lot of places that don't have such rocky soil).  And it's just a bratty sense of "where I'm from in better than where you're from" that keeps me thinking like that.

Either way, I do miss it there.  There is a crispness to the fall air that we just don't have down here in the MidAtlantic.  And, while it's nice to know that it will almost always be a manageable temperature on Halloween down here, I kind of miss the threat of rain or even sleet.  Having to "ruin" my Halloween costume with a coat or sweatshirt ("Dorothy didn't wear a parka!").  Perhaps I"m just feeling nostalgic.  Probably I'm just feeling nostalgic.  As I sit here, 22 weeks pregnant, the holidays yet to come loom in front of me like a long, gaudily lit road.  I think of my still-baking son and the life he's going to have, and I kinda want him to have a sweatshirt ruin a Halloween costume or two.  It's not the life is BETTER in New England... empirically.  It's just better for me.  Even if my ideas are predicated on a romanticized feast that happened four hundred years ago and a foggy memory of Tricks or Treats gone by.

So Baby Smith (currently on bar with a banana in length) is a boy! We found out last week and we're really excited... mostly just to KNOW. Derek kinda wanted a girl but I think he's getting over it.

After the sonogram appointment we went to the Mecca of Baby Goods known as Babies R Us. Completely overwhelming! Aisle after aisle of STUFF. Lists of STUFF. You need this many bibs and this many bottles and pacifiers and cribs and crib mattresses and stuff stuff stuff. We started our registry, but didn't finish it, since we kind of ran out of steam.

I'm 21 weeks now, meaning Baby has taste buds and swallows and does all kinds of stuff. During the sonogram the technician told us that he's measuring a little ahead, meaning he measured at 21 weeks last week when we were 20 weeks... She mentioned that this might be just babies growing in spurts and he'll even out. I'm inclined to think that it's just that my baby is advanced. Gifted. A champ.

Maybe that's just what all moms say.

How NUTSO is it that I'm almost a mom?!

A glorious day off...

So today I have the day off.  I probably should get a bunch of things done, but I have been working (HARD) the past five days and I'm going to revel.  To relax.  Dare I say, to SLOTH.

I woke up around 8:30 (but it's ok, because I went to be around 8:30 the night before and got plenty of rest) feeling fairly refreshed - largely because I hadn't had any dreams about being late to work - and extremely hungry.  I have stubbornly been refusing to go to the grocery store for the past week or so, for no real specific reason other than fatigue and a general overwhelmedness regarding the grocery store.  So my hunger this morning was cause for some concern.  I put myself together - halfway anyway (no make up, new clothes, a hat and sunglasses to hide my tired eyes) - and moseyed over to Dunkin Donuts for a decaf (sigh... I STILL miss coffee) and a bagel, and scurried into CVS for some random stuff, including Mac & Cheese, so lunch is covered too.  Then I came home to catch up on the tv I was too tired to stay up and watch last night.

Yeah, GLEE!  I read somewhere that they are doing less musical numbers this season, since they don't want to overdo their cheese factor or something.  But, seriously?  Why do I watch the show?  NOT for the love of the characters, since almost all of them are obnoxious, pitiable, or ridiculous on some level.  And since I enjoy watching them be obnoxious, pitiable, or ridiculous it's not a huge issue, but the PEOPLE are not why I tune in.  No, I watch for the musical numbers!  And, if we're being completely honest, as enjoyable as last night's episode was with the "song of the year" and other more recent hits being featured... I'm really watching for the musical theatre numbers!  I mean, since Rachel's "What I Did For Love" was kinda talking about everyone anyway, couldn't we have included them in that number?  I know the girl loves her solos and all, but I love me some ensemble singing.

In other news, pregnancy progresses steadily.  We're in week 17, which means Baby is the size of an Onion.  Exciting, especially since it seems like only a couple weeks ago we were talking martini garnishing olives or tequila chasing limes (can you tell I kinda miss booze too?).  But we're almost halfway there.  AND we're even closer to finally getting to find out if we're talking Boy or Girl, the big question.  Truly, I cannot wait.  I feel like that is the point at which it becomes a real person for me.  No longer just a little swimmy creature hanging out inside me, but an individual.  I can start to visualize more, maybe buy some clothes for the tyke, and think about what life might be like.  But for now, it's just me and Swimmy McOnion, neutral and mysterious Baby. 

Weird pregnancy symptom?  My right hand is constantly falling asleep.  I don't actually know if it's pregnancy related or some other weird thing, but it's always asleep.  When I'm sleeping it falls asleep and when I'm awake it falls asleep.  I should probably call the doctors and look into it, but I don't know how best to word it... "Ummm... My hand is asleep.  Or tingling.  Or hurting as it tingles back into awake.  It feels weird.  What is it?"  And how would one test to figure out what that is?  This is a symptom I haven't heard about before, so maybe it isn't even a symptom but I have some bizarre circulation disorder.  Wouldn't that be fun? 

I think it's Mac & Cheese and Netflix time.  I have to finally watch the disc I've had for like a month (Funny Face - Astaire and A. Hepburn) so I can send it back and get The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo -- so I have a basis for comparison next year when the American version comes out.  And I can decide if either is really any better than the books or if it's stupid for people to adapt books into movies since the movie never ends up being better.  Maybe the Swedes know what they're doing, though, and I will end up totally impressed... Only time will tell.

In case you've been living under a rock...

I'm pregnant!  I'm about 11 weeks at this point - so, according to The Bump dot com's "How Big is Baby" feature, my little seedling is the size of a lime this week.  And it's fingers and toes are no longer webbed.  So prior to this point I was carrying some kind of platypus, not a human child.  No worries, though - we've moved on to real hand and feet features here in week 11 and the bun in my oven is slowly growing into a real live boy.  Or girl. 

The whole experience is so bizarre and overwhelming.  I'm excited, certainly, but there are so many things to consider and plan for.  Also, I'm not a very patient person and I want to know the gender and to make sure the baby is healthy and pick a name and plan the nursery and all of those things.  However, I apparently need to wait.  Because he/she doesn't really have a gender yet and the tests I have to undergo to ensure health can't be done yet and we basically have names picked (but it kinda depends on that gender thing) and the nursery will be what it is when it is.  Right? Right.  Patience.  I've heard it's a virtue.  Or something.

Health wise, I'm pretty good.  I gave up coffee cold turkey - possibly the hardest part of the entire experience thus far.  Obviously booze went out the window, along with sushi, soft cheeses, and lunch meats.  Recently I discovered that eggs, up to now a total fave, make me yak... and so I've said goodbye to that great source of protein.  No morning sickness, but tons of fatigue.  I'm tired all the time - which may have something to do with the long work days and lack of coffee, but what do I know?  I'm not a doctor.

So now you all know!  I plan to keep blogging about the pregnancy experience to keep everyone informed - but I'm not much for oversharing.  This blog will remain rated PG.  :)

Book Update!

So, since my last book update I have read two books and started two others (one of which will be finished fairly soon).

The first was Confessions of a Shopaholic.  This book was really cute - really cute, although it did make me sort of concerned about the state of my credit and sort of give me a bad feeling in my stomach about debt.  Which is not good.  I read the first one and the first chapter of the second one (Shopaholic Takes Manhattan), at which point I decided, I don't think I can dedicate myself to a series of books in which the protagonist does not learn from her mistakes.  And if I read the whole series, I think I'd give myself an ulcer worrying about my own finances.  So the first was it for me - but it was definitely an enjoyable fluff read.  Good for a beach or rainy day. 

Then I started Book of Lost Books, which I am still reading, but loving so far.  This clever and terribly witty and wordy Scotsman has compiled a list of all the books and works which will never be accessible, since they have been lost - burned, censored, eroded, left incomplete, or just plain lost.  It starts with Anonymous (some time before Homer), goes on to Homer, and up through the Greeks... which is as far as I've gotten.  I expect to finish it and continue chuckling and marveling at how interesting this man is. 

BUT I got waylaid by Plum Spooky, one of Janet Evanovich's "Between the Numbers" Stephanie Plum books.  I love this author.  As soon as the "Numbers" books come out every summer I sweep them up and read them in one sitting.  However, these "Between the Numbers" ones are subpar.  I like the protagonist (Stephanie Plum, Jersey bounty hunter, plagued with bad car juju and misadventures, blessed with two hot men who love her), but the story lines for these books (Plum Lucky, Plum Lovin', Visions of Sugar Plums) are often a bit more supernatural.  There's a character who sort of appears and disappears - a hot otherworldly dude named Diesel - and the stuff that happens in these books is just kind of weird.  They're a good read but not NEARLY as delightful as the others (One for the Money, Two for the Dough, Three to Get Deadly, etc etc etc).  So it was a quicky read, and a fun read, but I was happy to return to my more intellectual reading of Lost Books.

HOWEVER, I was waylaid once again - and continue to be so - by a loaner from a friend: Assassination Vacation.  This book is also unexpectedly clever and funny.  It's a nonfiction narrative of this author, Sarah Vowell, who is obsesssed with assassinations, particularly (or at least the ones included in this book) the first three presidential assassinations - Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley.  She takes obsession to new heights, not just visiting Ford's Theatre, but retracing John Wilkes Booth's escape route through the Maryland countryside, and visiting the fort/prison to which Dr. Samuel Mudd (who fixed Booth up after he injured himself jumping from the Ford's Theatre Balcony) was exiled.  I have only just gotten through the Lincoln chapter, which is definitely the substantial portion of the book.  But it's tremendously interesting!  Did you know, for example, that Robert Todd Lincoln, President Lincoln's oldest son (and the only one who managed to survive childhood) was nearby for ALL THREE of the first presidential assassinations?  INTERESTING!  Read the book.  Also, Edwin Booth, John Wilkes Booth's brother, was as celebrated an actor as his infamous kin - and he wasn't a racist jerk... There's a statue of Edwin in Gramercy Park in NYC - I believe the only statue of an actor in the city (or at least the first), and he started the Players Club, an elite social club for actors to be aristocratic and elite and whatnot (since at the time, an actor was somewhere on par with a Lady of the Night or a professional gambler or some such thing).  INTERSTING!  Read the book.

So that's where things stand. I'm currently reading two books, both of which I hope to finish soon so I can start two more... But more on those later.