My darling husband turned 35 yesterday. I am pleased to report that I love him madly, want to spend every day with him forever, and pray that we have long, abundantly blessed lives together. Furthermore, I don’t think he’s the least bit old.

A week ago we took Ian to buy a new bicycle. (He’s been riding bikes that don’t fit his body frame for years now.) We got a new Schwinn and he has enjoyed riding it to and from work a few times already. It’s not super fancy, but it’s serviceable, and new, and all his. I hope to hit the American River bike trail again soon!

Yesterday was an extremely mellow and rather uneventful birthday for him. He got to take the day off work, at least. But he mostly studied and hung out at home. I worked a lot yesterday. After this weekend of fun and frivolity and long car rides, we were in “return to normal” mode, with school and work and a regular-ish bedtime as priorities.

However, in an unprecedented show of bravery and adventure, Ian’s mom took us and his sister, Kellie, out for a sushi dinner at Samurai. It was a lovely meal and good company. (I’m now a big fan of the C. Webber roll: snow crab roll with cooked scallop on top and a peanutty sauce, tobiko and green onions. Nice to find new, cooked sushi delights since I crave it so badly.) Mom and Sis both had terriyaki chicken and tempura—mustn’t be too crazy. 😉

Unfortunately, Ian’s step-father is still very ill and wasn’t able to join us. His back pain and breathing problems are far from under control. Morphine is suppressing his respiratory system so badly that he’s falling down, unable to breathe. First they thought it was heart trouble, then they thought it was GERD, then they thought it was asthma and extreme allergies, but it seems now that it’s none of those things. Depression has also set in because he has been so limited for so long–like 2-3 years. Some retirement, eh? Now they’re talking about getting him off morphine ASAP, but that requires a new doctor. Apparently the doc that GIVES you the shit isn’t ALLOWED to get you off it. They won’t consider doing any kind of back surgery until David’s breathing is stabilized. He’s hitting the cans of heliox several times a day and went to the ER once last month. Just walking around his house reduces his respiration to less than 80% of what it should be. Ian’s mom and sister are basically at a loss as to how to help him or even how to cheer him up. Antidepressants are not the solution: They tried a number of those several years ago and they just made him feel suicidal. David is housebound, depressed, and acting weird.

This morning I was able to attend a Parent Tea at Lucas’s kindergarten. They hold these teas about once a month and the point of them is twofold, I think: 1) it gives the children an opportunity to invite their parents into the classroom and see what they play/work with, who they play/work with, and what they are experiencing, and 2) it gives the parents the opportunity to peek behind the wizard’s curtain and reaffirm that they’re happy to be paying so much dough for private school.

So, from 8:20 a.m. to 8:45 a.m. I was in Lucas’s classroom, along with a crowd of other kids and parents. It was far too noisy with all those people for my taste, but so far I do like the kids and most of the other parents. Anyway, Lucas introduced me to Teeny Tiny the Turtle, played with stacking gnomes with me, and led me to the red carpet for circle time. Circle time is the best! It melts my heart and makes me feel full of hope again. I don’t know the songs yet, but the children do. The two teachers lead the singing and hand motions to go with the songs. They invoked the light fairies to come and the angels to protect them. Then, the teachers politely asked the big people to leave.

Here’s a poem Lucas taught us today:

I dance with the flowers.
I sing with the sun.
My warmth I give to everyone.

We’re having another boy. An unmistakeable, crystal-clear crotch shot during the ultrasound confirmed it.

So, Lucas suggested William or Liam for the baby’s name.

William Wilson doesn’t work for me (even though William my father’s name).
I love the name Liam, but we can’t have an Ian and a Liam in the same family. Imagine the confusion because the names sound so similar. Still, it’s interesting to me that Lucas would immediately choose a name that I’ve always loved.

It’s very important to me to choose a name that’s fairly unusual and unique. I’m sick of meeting guys with the same 10-15 names (john, steve, robert, jeff, joel, michael, david, mark, matthew, james, alex, andrew, jason, max, tom, etc.) No offense intended if your name is one of those.

Top name contenders right now are Tremendifer, Ebinezer, Peasblossom, and Godzilla.

OK, real top contenders are Rowan, Asher, Donovan, Andreas, Tristan, Sebastian, Sylvan, Alder, Arden, Dante, Cedar, Channing, Gabriel, Logan, Winter, Jordan, Channing, and more. I’m attracted to names of trees for this baby, for some unknown reason.

Rowan = Tree with Red Berries, Mountain Ash (Sacred & magical, associated with Imbolc, which is when baby is due)
Asher = blessed, happy
Donovan = brown black (not a very cool meaning)
Andreas = manly
Tristan = bold, tumult, Tristan and Isolde (doomed love–not so good)
Sebastian = venerable
Sylvan = one who frequents groves or woods
Alder = alder tree, birch
Arden = from the eagle valley
Dante = everlasting
Cedar = cedar tree
Gabriel = God is my strength (not too keen on God names)
Logan = small cove
Winter = the season
Channing = knowing; from the place of Cana’s people (I don’t know who Cana is)
Sage = from the herb; prophet
Adonis = man loved by Aphrodite, manly beauty

homoscedasticity—n.: the property of having equal statistical variances

We told Lucas today about the new baby who’s on the way. His face lit up in a smile. He thinks the baby should be named William or Liam (his ideas). He immediately began talking to my belly, saying “I love you baby. I hope you come out of there.”

Me too.

We see no signs of angst in Lucas, just excitement. He thinks the baby’s birthday should be in February.

Me too.

He thinks the baby’s crib should be placed in the living room.

I don’t think so.

We have a dead fish floating in our aquarium. (Unfortunately, it’s not the bully fish who’s dead; it’s his battered and long-suffering mate.) I wonder if we should disappear the deceased before Lucas comes home this afternoon or let him see that live things sometimes die. It kind of seems like a teachable moment, and sort of appropriate, given that it’s Mabon and we happen to have a tiny spruce tree seedling in the fridge that we could plant when we bury the fish. Any opinions on whether a four-year-old should have knowledge of and/or be involved in a small fish funeral ceremony?

For the equinox, I think we’ll gather some more new items for our nature table tonight and redecorate it tomorrow morning, the first day of autumn. Perhaps we’ll make applesauce together and a loaf of bread. It’s convenient that we can celebrate on a Saturday, instead of me having to get everything read for dinnertime tonight. I wish I were better at planning ahead. I always seem to wake up the morning of a holiday full of ideas and holiday spirit and nothing prepared.

A little while ago I boasted about my recent magazine article. I didn’t realize that they now have the full text of the article online. So, if any of you were dying to read what I wrote about intestinal flauna and what they eat, fiber, and other stuff, here’s the link:

http://www.sacmag.com/media/Sacramento-Magazine/September-2006/Cutting-Edge-Nutrition/

Today is the first day of the second HALF of my pregnancy. 20 weeks, 1 day. I’m feeling pretty good. I feel like I didn’t eat all that well today, but now that I think about it that just means too many slices of whole grain bread. (Eggs, cereal, apple, peanut butter, raisin toast, cashews, cheese, homemade chicken-noodle-veg soup, toast.)

Today, I want to throw out all my stuff and live in an Ikea showroom with no real belongings. I want clean and spare. I don’t want to save stuff. I just want to start all over again and live in a model home where the surfaces are dust-free and hold only a single vase. No mementos anywhere. This fantasy is completely contrary to my sentimental, pack-rat, cluttery nature. I want to throw out all of Lucas’s and Ian’s stuff too.

The asthma doc says yes, I can have my refill. Advair is the golden ticket to a real, symptom free life. I just want my damned refill. He gave me a bunch of CYA info about meds and pregnancy that ultimately concluded with him saying he doesn’t think we should change anything. I saw him just over one year ago. My numbers after my pulmonary tests are exactly the same as they were on July 17, 2005. So why the hell can’t I just accomplish this 3-minute yearly conversation over the phone or email? Why the hell do I have to go there?

The stalled project looks to be moving again, though now it’s an EMERGENCY.
The other stalled project is creaking into motion.
Two strategy guides fell out of the sky for me today. I accepted one.
Another strategy guide I’ve already committed to should be starting very soon.
Another client would like to get a long-term project done in the next few weeks.
I have no less than three exams to take ASAP.
I have a new network client who would like me to say, “Go! Send work!”
The church lady just gave me a deadline too.

Yikes. Too bad I just really want to sleep. A lot.

I stopped at Starbucks at 11 a.m. the other day for a coffe. We had run out at home, so I hadn’t had my cuppa. I was sad, needing a boost, and felt entitled. I ordered my grande pumpkin spice latte with whipped cream and paid the $3.50 for it. (I treat myself to a coffee drink about twice a month.) The chick behind the counter took my money, looked at my belly disdainfully, and pointedly asked, “Are you sure you don’t want a decaf?”

“No, I don’t want a decaf, coffee bitch!”