subtraction

Those who've lost children usually count differently than other people. I have no children, one child, two, three, four, five children, they say, leaving space for the one who isn't there.

But, for me, even now, one of the few things that can still make me have to remember to breathe is when people, trying to be kind, refer to Cole as my fourth child. I have two children, no more, no less.

The twins are . . . lost, gone, vanished, stolen, disappeared, absolutely elsewhere. But they are not my children. And they never were.

with one string

I've been avoiding writing about it or even thinking about it, but it looks like we're going to do another IVF cycle with the help of our wonderful surrogate, Trish. Check out her blog if you want more details. (eta: if you stop by Trish's blog, please leave her a comment -- even if it's just to say hello or good luck. Being a surrogate can be such a difficult and often misunderstood role and I know that your support would mean a lot to her.)

I'm not feeling exactly optimistic (I know you're shocked), but, as Saskia reminds me, "There's always hope."

I hear it's somewhere in Arkansas. Or hanging in one of the galleries at the Tate.

something new

And -- if, like me, you tend to thoughtlessly succumb to the patriarchal gender role stereotyping that permeates, pervades and perfuses our society -- something blue. M has had her long awaited baby boy and both M and her little one are doing very, very well.

I won't tell her story, because it's, well, her story, but it's been a long and painful road and M has experienced just about every imaginable obstacle and more sorrow than anyone should ever have to endure. Honestly, I can't begin to tell you how happy I am for M and her new son.

M's blog is password protected, so no link, but if anyone who doesn't have access wants to leave their congratulations or good wishes here, I promise I'll collect them and pass them along.

night of the radishes

When Magpie was looking for ways to persuade her daughter to eat more vegetables, Elephant's Child that that I am, I suggested that learning bizarre veggie facts might pique her interest. I started to look up a few examples and immediately chanced upon (cue scary music) The Night Of the Radishes, a festival that apparently takes place every December 23 when the residents of Oaxaca, Mexico gather in the town square and exhibit monstrously large radishes intricately carved and arranged into religious and historical scenes.

It's all very quaint and folkloric, but it does have vaguely ominous undertones. In fact, it reminds me of the little tune that we learned in French IV that was supposed to teach us the pleonastic ne:

il faut manger, manger, manger les radis
avant que les radis ne nous mangent*

And while it's good luck to dream of radishes, the dreams inspired by this particular song were more of the nightmarish variety, involving ruthless and rubicund tubers hellbent on a radishy revenge.

Which is a long way of saying that, while our CSA was supposed to deliver radishes this week, I'm just as happy that we somehow seem to have ended up with turnips instead.




*We must eat, eat, eat the radishes
Before the radishes eat us

googlies

How did you get here? And by that I mean: what was the google search that brought you to this, my blog? Was it, perhaps, one of the following?

Child is wise beyond her years.



I realize it's likely cold comfort at best, but J doesn't love me either.



Not to out myself as hopelessly vanilla or anything, but I kinda hope that when they say "niobe" they're referring to this lovely, wine-colored clematis.



Have I mentioned lately how much I love my readers?


And, tell me, because I really, really want to know: how did you find this blog in the first place?

lightheaded

The other day, the lovely and charming Artblog wrote an intriguing post about a detox plan she'd tried for a few weeks back in January, noting that she'd stopped after she (coincidentally) ended up pregnant. Now, I absolutely do not want to get pregnant and I'm not really looking to lose weight, but it sounded like, I dunno, fun? a challenge?

I emailed Artblog to get more information and she sent me a detailed plan, filled with tips, tricks and encouragement. (if you have any interest, I'm sure she'd send it to you too). Right now, I'm on day one. I keep telling myself that it won't kill me to give up caffeine for a couple of weeks. It just feels that way.

Wish me luck. And tell me what the strangest or best diet plan you've ever tried?


(Oh, and the photo is of a girl riding a carousel at night. If you look closely, you can just make out her hands and face. Appropriate, no?)

tidying up

So, I was rummaging through some of my old photos -- the ones I downloaded (um, uploaded? And, yes, I also have a certain amount of trouble distinguishing right from left) to my computer, but never put on my flickr site. The picture above is a shot from our trip to the Vineyard at the very end of last summer.

The whole exercise mostly reminded me of how much I've been wanting a new camera. My rationalization is that my current one is not only old, with limited battery life and memory card capacity, but it's also held together by duct tape, the sad result of my dropping it one too many times. Currently, I'm considering the kinda pricey Nikon D5000. But I'm open to other suggestions, should you want to give any. My one idiosyncratic requirement is that I need a flip-out screen.

Also, I was thinking about tidying up my blogroll and my feed reader. So, if you'd like to be included in either one and you're not already (well, I guess you don't know if you're included on my feed reader, but you can probably figure it out), please leave a comment with a link to your blog.

overexposure

Checking my site stats, I've noticed that one of the people who's been reading my blog just happens to live in my mother's fairly small town (population: under 10,000). While it could be a coincidence, I'm thinking that what this really means is: welcome to pwned-ville (population: me).

What would you do if you suspected that a family member who you hadn't told about your blog was reading it? Or, which isn't quite the same thing, what should I do? Because if my mother hasn't discovered my blog, I don't want to encourage her to look for it by telling her not to read it. If you know what I mean.

this and that

• Weight loss secret: A 2007 study (no doubt sponsored by the peppermint industry) found that inhaling peppermint scent decreases appetite and caloric intake. And reduces nicotine cravings and improves your Guitar Hero score. I don't know about you, but I'm stocking up.
  
  
• Will leave you just a little teary-eyed (even if your heart happens to be cold, black and two sizes too small) Cara has posted an incredibly moving video (you'll have to scroll down the page a bit) of last month's Walk for Hope and Remembrance. The long, sad list of the names of our lost babies starts at about 17:07.
  
  
• Is your blog boring? Help is on the way. If it's the content that needs a little work, take a look at Aunt Becky's blogging tips. Aunty B writes one of the most entertaining blogs around, so when she gives advice: read and heed. If it's the visual aspects of your blog that could use sprucing up (are you still using that pre-packaged template?), get in touch with Calliope, who (as she's already done for so many other bloggers) will take your ideas and favorite images and colors and turn them into a gorgeous custom header.
  
  
• In the mail: Today, I got a beautiful postcard from Ruby, sent during her recent road trip. Take a look at her blog to see the unwelcome souvenir she picked up in the Beehive State.
  
  
• The photo above? Just part of our haul from week two of the CSA. Lots of lettuce-like items, red-stemmed kale and more tasty, tasty bok choy.

standard disclaimer

Just so we're clear:

The characters and events depicted in the previous post are fictitious.* Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

*Note that this refers solely to the previous post. Though I realize there are doubters and skeptics (yes, I'm looking at you, Deshaine), for the most part, what you read on this blog, if not the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, is at least a reasonable facsimile thereof.

unfortunately

I can't remember where I saw this meme, but it's one of those things where you google "unfortunately, [your name]" and share the results. (Of course, replacing [your name] with (duh) your name.* Or I suppose, some other name, if your name or pseudonym is so uncommon you don't turn up any results.)

Here are mine, which seem almost preternaturally apposite.

Unfortunately, Niobe won't avoid blocked roads, so you'll just have to hope that any cars you manage to dispose of actually land in a lane other than your own.

Unfortunately, Niobe had another suitor, a powerful sorcerer in the duke's army.

Unfortunately Niobe noticed this and the look on his face seemed to amuse her a great deal as she let out a light chuckle while shaking her head.

Go ahead, try it yourself. And, if you do, please, leave your favorite (or "favorite") results or a link to your blog in the comments.



*Although, phrased like that, it sounds a little, um, recursive. Which reminds me of that time, long, long ago, when I overheard a conversation between a mom and her toddler son. They were apparently visiting the public restroom on their way to a birthday party, because I overheard the mom saying in her R-dropping Boston accent Now, Timmy, you have to go to the pah-ty before you can go to the pah-ty. Which at the time, I thought was hilarious, but I now realize is probably a location joke. As in, you had to be there.


Be sure to check out the following. Believe me, after reading them, you'll never think of these bloggers in quite the same way again:
unfortunately, nicole
unfortunately, heather
unfortunately, k@lakly
unfortunately, lori
unfortunately, karen
unfortunately, mrs. spit
unfortunately, jill
unfortunately (and fortunately), trish
unfortunately, donna
unfortunately, caro
unfortunately, which box
unfortunately, the yak

make-believe babies

You've probably already heard about April Rose, the blogging scandal du jour. The blogger, who called herself "B" or "April's Mom," claimed to be an unmarried, devout Christian, pregnant with a little girl who had been diagnosed as terminally ill. B claimed that her doctors had urged her to terminate, but she had chosen to continue the pregnancy.

Thousands of people read and commented on the blog, praying for April Rose, sharing their tragic stories and even emailing photos of their own children dressed in pink to show their support. B wrote that she was planning a home birth, so she could spend the most time possible with her daughter and, on June 7, after reporting that the baby had miraculously been born alive, though gravely ill, posted a photo, supposedly of the newly-born April Rose. (e/t/a: click here to see the photo.)

The photo turned out to be her undoing, since one of her readers immediately realized that the "baby" was actually a so-called reborn doll, a doll that's been painstakingly (and, some would say, creepily) enhanced with painted skin, rooted hair and a weighted body to look and feel almost exactly like a real baby. Some reborns even have a magnet in their mouths, so they can "suck" on a pacifier. In fact, reborns are so realistic that, the story goes, a police officer once smashed a car window to rescue an unconscious baby left in a car seat, only to find it was actually a doll.

The blogger turned out to be an artist who runs the aptly-titled See Through Me Studio and while, admitting the April Rose story was entirely fictional claims to have actually lost several babies. Though the blog has been taken down if, like me, these kind of hoaxes fascinate you (and, no, I do not slow down and gawk at car accidents and train wrecks) you can, at least for the time being, find the deleted posts about April Rose here (click the "cached" option) and here and learn more about the fraud and how it was discovered in these articles

Anyway, aside from the obvious issues, the whole thing makes me wonder about the following: though I'm sure you're far too honest to do anything of the sort, if you were to create a fake blog, what would it be about?

1 bunch pac choi!

Hello all-The drop off starts tonight-the address is 52/52a Larchwood*
St,but the actual drive way is around the corner-tonights drop off will include 1 head romaine lettuce,1 head boston lettuce,1 Head escarole,1 Bunch Pac choi,1 bunch pea Tendrils and 1 Bunch
spinach for the small,and 2 of everything for the large-try to remember to bring bags,and I am there from 5:30-8-See you all tonight,Looking forward toit

I'm looking forward to it too.

I just received the above (reproduced almost in its entirety) email, which means that our CSA, which we joined thanks to Magpie's suggestion, begins its deliveries of tasty, farm-fresh veggies (and the occasional fruit) tonight.

All that's left for me to do is to try to remember to bring bags and to figure out what to do with 1Bunch Pac choi** and 1 bunch pea Tendrils.




*Not the actual name of the actual street, which derives from a different and non-coniferous variety of tree.

**Also known as pak choy, bai tsai, bok chow, pok choi, and (more familiarly, to me at least) bok choy.

since you asked

At this very moment, I'm wearing heels (black) and a suit (also black) as I marshal my thoughts and attempt to focus on an interesting, yet tricky, work presentation that I'll be making this afternoon. Admittedly, this would be a whole lot easier if all our summer interns weren't planning to attend.

Cross your fingers that it goes well. And how do you feel about public speaking -- do you love it and seek it out, hate it and avoid it whenever possible, or just lack strong feelings on the subject one way or the other?



eta: It was fine. Totally, absolutely fine. I don't have any special aptitude for public speaking (in fact, quite the opposite), but it's part of my job, so I've learned to do it and even, most of the time, to enjoy it. This particular talk was a bit more challenging than usual for a whole bunch of different reasons, so I'm mostly just glad it's over.

progress report

At five months, Cole can roll over (front to back, and, when he really wants to, back to front). He can't crawl, but manages to move fairly efficiently across the floor by alternately flexing his arms and legs. Like a caterpillar, says Devera, who runs the daycare.

He smacks his lips, burbles and, when he’s particularly pleased with himself, squeals like a piglet. If we let him, he would probably spend the entire day downing bottle after bottle, but, so far, he shows little interest in solid food.

Overall, his temperament seems basically placid and happy. He’s so much more interesting to watch and interact with than the little lump that came home from the hospital, but what I really want is for him to learn to talk, so he can tell me what he’s thinking.

What age (in theory or reality) is your favorite? Do you prefer tiny babies or preschoolers or school age children or teenagers?

cards on the table

As promised, it's time for the big reveal. Leave your (strictly anonymous) confessions in the comments. If there are enough comments, I'll add two or three of my own carefully-guarded-until-this-very-moment secrets. See if you can guess which ones they are.

For inspiration, check out the last edition of Lots of Secret Stuff Revealed. But remember, your confession can be small -- even tiny -- as well as large. I mean, what about that bubblegum pink nail polish you, um, abstracted from the drugstore when you were eight? Inquiring minds want to know everything.*



*Except, of course, your name. Please, please, don't forget to choose the anonymous option when you comment. Just saying.

commencement

Somewhere in my parents' basement, there are photos of my high school graduation, rows and rows of high school students wearing caps and gowns in an unusual shade of purple unflattering to just about everyone.

But there were no caps or gowns yesterday at Gray's graduation, just girls in white dresses and boys in dark suits. We sat near the back, paging through programs, listening to speakers intone the traditional, comforting platitudes: your possibilities are endless, they said, commencement is not only an end, but also a beginning.

Still, mostly, it felt like an end. When Gray's name was called, he walked to the middle of the stage, shook hands with the headmaster and tucked his diploma under his arm. Then he went over to the side to stand with six girls and five other boys, the a cappella group, who've been singing together since middle school.

While the other new graduates filed out towards the back of the auditorium, the chorus went through all the songs they'd practicing for so long -- an Scottish folk melody, the school song, an ecumenical hymn. And, as their voices intertwined, sweet and true, as hard as I tried, I couldn't tell which one belonged to my son.

spy vs. spy

To those of you (and you know who you are) who've recently tried to recruit me for Spymaster, the new Twitter-based game, I'm going to have to regretfully decline.

Because, honestly, laundering money through Swiss bank accounts, buying and selling firearms on the black market, murder for hire -- it's all just a bit too reminiscent of my day job.