Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Ready to read.


Ooooch. The Jays are getting murdered, and it's only the second inning. Chacin is back from the Disabled List, though heaven knows why - he was throwing beach balls in Triple A.

I might have to...wait for it...read a book. Oh, no!

I was once an avid reader. Not quite voracious, because I've always been a slow, dreamy, easily-distracted reader. But for the past seven years or so, I have read an average of about three books a year. For me, that's shameful. Here's the deal: with my parents' illnesses, my mother's death, marriage and the birth of my son, I've been on some long emotional trips. I have avoided books because I haven't wanted them stained by my own sorrow or stress. I get so deeply absorbed when I read, and I remember books quite well. I don't want to remember any with mental asterisks next to them.

It took me nine months to get through A Fine Balance. First I picked at it, then I lost it for a few months. Then I read the last third of it in a single day, just under a week before my son was born. The book is full of horror. I wanted it to be over, my emotional reaction to it complete, before I experienced childbirth amd met our baby. Now, the book has enough powerful evocations of horror that I don't know if my reaction to it will ever be complete, but I thought I'd at least try to clean the slate.

Now I'm ready. My brain isn't exactly rotting, as it's mapping out life with this sweet baby, but I spend far too many hours a day on the internet while nursing Iain, or even while he sleeps on my lap because I'm afraid to wake him by moving him. I need to pick up a book and love it, soak up some beautiful words and images, and be dazzled, even if the text does get stained a little by my own anxiety. The conditions will rarely be "just right", but I can't keep denying myself the great pleasure of a really good book.

Small glimmers of freedom

When you go to get your photo taken for ye olde guvernment health card, drivers license, whatever, you think they'd at least let you see how bad the photo is before submitting it electronically to the happy people who make cards. But no. It's a surprise! You just have to wait a few weeks, then your ugly mug is mailed right to you.

Today I remembered to conceal a large zit before my appointment chez OHIP, but I had to forgo all other makeup or any opportunity to brush my hair because I have this baby, you see, who likes to fuss as soon as I begin to hatch grand plans. Like going to the bathroom. Or making myself a coffee. Or trying so smear on enough makeup so as not to look like death on my health card.

Back when I was engaged, I wondered if I should register for a coffee maker with or without a timer. The answer, three years later, would seem to be "with". That's what I did, and the poor coffeemaker has lived in a cupboard since then, because whan you're making just one cup, manual drip is easier than measuring out water and keeping a machine clean. Unless you have a baby. Time to break out the machine.


I've yielded to the evil stroller, by the way. Oh sure, I love to wear the baby, and he enjoys being worn or carried for a bit of time here or there, but not too long or when it's hot. He definitely prefers facing out. We used the stroller twice in July and he hated it. No wonder, really - the position for newborns is flat on one's back. So he couldn't see me, and couldn't see out, and didn't know what the hell was happening. Now he can hold his head up well enough that we can chck him in there and he's content. So I've been for two glorious evening walks this week with a very happy baby in a stroller, and felt no guilt for not attaching him to my body. Just freedom, walking at my pace. I've enjoyed mild weather, heard crickets and laughter, seen other folks out for a walk, and felt free. There are many kind of freedom, but my favourite kind right now is being able to walk in the August twilight with my baby and feel safe.


I don't regret the passed summer, the One That My Baby Ate. I can't. This time is short, precious, and different. I must embrace it. I'll have summers again, with my mobile, happy child, and I needn't wonder why I was so anxious this time, why I couldn't shrug and let it go. I'll take these little glimmers of freedom when I get them, and just live them, not compare them to the rest of my current life.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Attack of the killer zucchini.


 Cooking is still a juggling act when living with a nursing infant, but I'm getting more and more done. Iain's now interested enough in the world (read: daddy's shirt collar, chip crumbs, clumps of cat hair on the floor) to be distracted from my boob long enough that I can whip up some simple dinners.

Last week I got to the farmer's market for the first time this year, and bought a cauliflower and a zucchini. Whee. The cauliflower was turned into a lovely curry last week, and that one, gigantic zucchini made its record third appearance in a meal last night in a stirfry.

The zucchini at the market were huge, and cost $1. Three meals later, we still have some left of the one I bought.

Zucchini at this time of year are prolific, to say the least, even in parts of the world that don't grow much. Our neighbour at the cottage used to tend his zucchini patch faithfully; it was almost entirely sand, but he had so much frigging zucchini proliferating in that barren wasteland that we would run and hide when we saw him, lest he sock us with another bushel of them.

I think I've nailed my stirfry sauce (read: it always tastes the same no matter what I put in it). Catalina salad dressing is my secret weapon.

I've also nailed my cooking method for jasmine rice. Well, it's Rachael Ray's method. Bring 3 3/4 cups water to a boil, stir in 2 cups of jasmine rice, cover and cook on low for 18 minutes. It works every time, so I never follow package directions.

Ooh, how exciting! Next week: What will I do with a bunch of rotting celery?

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Testing!

HTML is a pain when you have a baby on your lap, so I'm giving Windows Live Writer a whirl.  So far, so good.

 

Not that I have anything else to say....

Saturday, August 12, 2006

I got nothin'.


It's been a terrible amount of time since last I blogged here. I hesitate to bore the public with tales of poop or drone on AGAIN about the plethora of dustbunnies I wrestle with daily. All I do is feed my insatiable son, read magazines and watch TV, and worry alot about the aforementioned dustbunnies. They fret me because we have twice as many visitors as usual now that there's someone cute here, and twice as many dustbunnies because I can't plop kidlet down long enough to get anything major done.

So I have no life to write about. Here's why:

I could become another "mommy blogger", but there are plenty of those floating around, and I have no new perspective to offer.

Food blogging would require a level of culinary proficiency that I ain't got. Music blogging might mean that I'd never work in this town again. And frankly, I've always preferred making music to writing about it.

My political views are too varied to pin, and I abhor debate, so I won't even go there.

I can't knit worth a shit.

So there you are. I got nothin'. Nothin' but dust, cats, a baby, lactating boobs, anxiety, and some balcony plants that I've already written about.

Aaaaargh.