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Well I am at the doctor's and Nick is very skinny. I hate this! He has totally fallen off his growth curve and is off the chart on weight. He will be starting food this month so I guess we can try to fatten him up that way but I am so frustrated. He doesn't look at all skinny or unhealthy.

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Well Max appears to be one of those kids who gets along much better with adults than with kids, although he did play with a little boy at school today. After school he was at my mom's and her friend came over and apparently she was completely charmed by Max.
Here is a picture of nick taking after his older brother (note hands over ears)

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Well I guess that roach was dying because Dave found it and said it was dying. So at least I am back to being able to pretend the nursery is safe. Then when I went back in there I was standing up and felt something dripping on my foot and got worried we had some leak in the ceiling but it was just my boob.
I am hoping to get to target today to get some nursing tanks because I can only find one of mine and two bras and that is not enough for my rate of doing laundry these days.

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Wtf is going on in the nursery? This morning around 7:30 I woke up to a roach crawling on my arm! I would have killed it but it was on the futon and then crawled down the wall. My saying I would have killed it is a huge deal because I am so afraid of these things it is really ridiculous. Even dead ones or photos of them freak me out. But this one was near Nick so I guess mama instincts trump roach phobia. But what good is a nursery I am afraid to go in because of roaches? And why are they coming in? I am pretty sure it is the cleanest room in the house. I'm so upset by this!!!

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Nick always wants me to hold him. I get so upset when he cries if I put him down, but I do have other things I need to do besides hold him, especially since max doesn't really want him in the same room. Then tonight I remembered that I could swaddle him (which I do at bedtime anyway) and he has been happy as a clam and so much calmer! Well, he's been asleep or dozy for most of the time but that's okay.
It was a bad day for things. I washed diapers and the washer fucked up and gave me some weird error message so I had to run the cycle again. Then I tried to put the crib together and first tried with the wrong hardware and then found out two of the screws are missing so that isn't done. Then I tried to fix the coffee grinder and nick made that well nigh impossible thanks to the aforementioned constant holding thing. I did manage to fix the grinder but I wouldn't have had to take it all apart if I'd realized the issue in the first place which was that no one has been cleaning the chute the grounds come out of so it was clogged with oily coffee grounds. I ran some rice through it and it's working nicely now. Although I did have some random piece fall out which seems to serve no purpose whatsoever and I couldn't put it back in.
I think I will go to bed early, after I have some chocolate ice cream and pretzels. Nick decided 4:30 would be a brilliant stay awake time last night. This was after waking at 1:45 (feeding at midnight), and at 4:30 he was up for over an hour and then we got up at 8 and I got not much of a nap.

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I am feeling bored and boring. I have finished reading all the Sujata Massey books that I own. I'm now reading Bringing Up Bebe which is pretty good so far but I want something else to read and I'm not sure what. I'd also like to be working on a writing project and something crafty as well but once again, not sure what.
I have a lot of cooking to do in the next couple of days but need a bit more sleep I think. I hope Nick is a little cooperative. Sometimes he is and sometimes he isn't. Right now he seems to be cluster feeding so maybe he's prepping for a long sleep stretch. We shall see...

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Ugh. I hate money. I wish I could get motivated and actually figure out how to earn some through one of the many artsy and crafty things I'm good at.
Nick seems to be doing well. I am not 100% thrilled with his awake times but it's still a lot easier to deal with when he is close at hand. He is definitely a cluster feeder.
Max doesn't want anything to do with nick at all. He is not hostile but he is so worried about him crying we can't all be in the same room.

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Baby Nick's levels dropped to 11.3 even after being off the bed since 5 yesterday. So no more bilibed! Last night was soooo much easier even though he woke up at 4:30 and didn't want to go back to sleep...until it was time for us to get up and go to the doctor's so I am exhausted. But not unhappy! I love the doctor who saw him today. He was great, and wasn't even concerned about Nick's further weight loss. He said if I was worried I could come in early next week for a weight check but otherwise they'd see me Friday. That will be the regular doctor who is also great.

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My book is up!

It will be free for 5 days starting tomorrow. If you're an Amazon Prime member, I'd love it if you'd borrow it via the Kindle Lending Library. Eventually I do plan to have a hard copy of this book but right now I'm just doing the Kindle because it's on the short side and I have plans to revise it in a few months.


Dec. 8th, 2011 07:53 pm
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"Shivering shit balls! What have you done to this place?" He looked around the room in wonder. I didn't think he was particularly impressed.

"I don't believe I've heard that expression before. I take it you don't like the new decor?"

"That would be an understatement. Didn't I mention before that turn-of-the-century brothel isn't really my style?"

"You may have, but I think it's kind of expected of you. You do have an image to uphold, and as much as you may dislike it, brothel is quite popular amongst the blood groupie crowd."

He snorted. "I still think it could be a bit more tasteful."

"Possibly, but you have to imagine what it will look like at night, when the lights are low. I think it'll make quite an impression."

"I won't argue with you, but it's not the impression I was hoping for, I fear. I wish you'd listened to what I said I wanted."

"That isn't my job. My job is to create the image of you that is going to be the most lucrative for the shareholders. And right now, this is it. Give it a few years and we'll change it up. Maybe by then people will appreciate Scandinavian minimalism."

He bared his fangs at me. I rolled my eyes. What was he going to do, eat me? These vampires, thinking that you could create something out of nothing. Which was essentially what they were.
Usage notes
Often translated as meaning small round fecal pellets, referring to the shape of goat droppings. A colorful usage, though more emphatic expression (in Yiddish more so than in English) is "Bupkis mit Kuduchas" (באָבקעס מיט קודוצ׳ה), translating roughly to "shivering shit balls" - kuduchas referring to the condition of generalized shaking palsy.
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I love food. I read cookbooks for fun, look up restaurant menus online, and take great pleasure in preparing food for my family. I remember discontinued products, like Kellogg's Concentrate, with a wistfulness that I'm not sure is normal after the 30+ years since I last ate them. I look forward to my next trip to Paris because of ice cream from Berthillon, hot chocolate from Angelina, and that artisan baguette from a little boulangerie on Ile St. Louis that I read about in the Paris Access guide and only managed to buy one of six or so years ago.

I also have bad food memories. These are less common, but I have three in particular that have stuck with me from childhood. My family believed in membership of the Clean Plate Club, at least at my dad's house. My stepmother is an exceptional cook, and I was never a picky eater. Some foods were exempt from the Clean Plate Club, usually if my dad deemed them inedible.

Throughout my childhood, my dad relied on the Consumer Reports cereal review to determine acceptable breakfast foods. However, on one occasion, I somehow convinced him that Lucky Charms would be an excellent addition to my mornings. After one bite, the slimy marshmallows convinced me otherwise. Daddy was annoyed that I was so unhappy with my new cereal, but for some reason decided I didn't have to finish the bowl. I think that happened because he took a bite of the cereal and was just as appalled as I was. Now, my dad is a man famous in our family for never letting food go to waste, but I'm pretty sure that box of Lucky Charms ended up in the trash.

The next Clean Plate Club exception was Shrimp Diablo. I remember the recipe sounded inoffensive enough, but my stepmother fixed it and it was terrible. It was so bad that Daddy insisted that it be a repeat recipe because Barb MUST have made a mistake the first time she fixed it. No, it was just as bad the second time. I remember Daddy adding all sorts of things to the offending dish in an attempt to make it palatable, from Texas Pete to sugar. No more Shrimp Diablo.

My dad always made me try things, but if I really really didn't like them, I didn't have to eat them. Sometimes he would get mad and make me try things again, like mushrooms, but if I still didn't like them I didn't have to eat them. The one exception to this was Clam Pie. I don't know why I had to eat that, but I remember sitting for hours at the dinner table, looking at the horrible greenish gray blob that was Clam Pie. I rather liked clams, and I think the pie crust was good, but the only other two ingredients I recall in the pie were onions and sour cream. I do not like sour cream. The pie sat on my plate, a large wedge about four inches high, waiting for me to consume it.

I don't even remember who won the Battle of Clam Pie, but years later when we moved into our new house, I named the formal living room "Clam Pie", as the walls were that familiar greenish gray, and the off white trim looked like sour cream. The butter yellow of the carpet with its garish green and gray roses added to the nightmare of Clam Pie. I was relieved when my stepmother finally got around to redecorating that room, especially since I had to walk through it to get to my bedroom. I think at this point Clam Pie has taken on Lovecraftian proportions in my memory, the Cthulu of the food world.

Even now, the memory of Clam Pie is making me nauseated, so I believe I need to cleanse my palate with some mint chocolate chip ice cream, or perhaps a perusal of the menu from the restaurant I'll be dining at tomorrow evening.
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I looked around for an attractive blood donor. So many of the blood groupies looked so cheap. If you had to drink from them, it might as well be pleasurable in all ways, not just the taste of the blood. I finally decided on a leggy blonde. She seemed a bit nervous, like maybe this was her first time. I wasn’t a big fan of breaking them in, but all the others were so blase.
“You’ve not done this before?” I inquired.
She shook her head.
“Well, don’t be scared. It won’t hurt.” I took her and and flipped it over so the underside of her wrist was exposed. “It’s probably better not to start with the neck,” I told her. “This is a lot less personal.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
I kind of wondered why she was here, when it was clear that she was scared out of her wits. I didn’t care enough to ask her, though. She’d tell me when she was ready. They always do.
She gasped a little when I sank my teeth in, but I knew it didn’t hurt her. She gazed at me when I’d finished feeding.
Oh great, an imprinter. Just what I needed. I didn’t want to have to deal with her following me around, watching me with puppy dog eyes for the next millennium. Not that she’d be living that long. I certainly wasn’t going to change her.
I tried to be gracious. “Stick around if you want. I have some stuff to do but I’ll be back later.”
“Okay,” she breathed. I pointed her in the direction of the bar before I left. “You’ll need plenty to eat and drink. Mark will get you what you need.”
I was so relieved to get out of there. Such a meat market. I still wasn’t used to having people throw themselves at our kind. Like we’d deign to change them. I had really strict criteria. I didn’t think Blondie was going to make the cut. Of course, someone else might think otherwise. I hoped she’d get over me quickly. You could never tell who was going to be hit that way. Otherwise I’d never have picked her. Some vamps got a rush from the imprinters. It was so easy to take advantage of them after that, treat them like shit and have them crawling back for more. But I wasn’t that sadistic. I hated a groveling human.
I knew that the next time she came in she’d be dressed like all the rest of them, looking like a girl from an 80s heavy metal video—teased up hair, fishnets, black leather, stilettos. Not my type at all, and a far cry from the Oklahoma farm girl sitting there today. It seems like all the blood groupies think they have to dress rocker chick or Victorian. If they'd ever bother to ask they'd know that isn't the case, and they'd probably manage to please me for longer. And wasn't that their ultimate goal, to make me happy?


Nov. 7th, 2011 07:22 am
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"You piece of coprolite!" Now where had that come from? I hadn't said that for ages. I don't recall just when I'd come across that term, but I vividly remember the snickers my friends and I had shared following our discovery via the Wikipedia entry that an earlier name for coprolite was a bezoar stone, so a memorable lesson from Harry Potter ended up being that eating shit was an antidote for most poisons. "You piece of coprolite" had been our favorite insult for several months, at least among each other. Now we'd drifted apart, as is wont to happen in that transition between middle school and high school, particularly when you end up at different schools. I was the bitch who ditched everyone to be the smart cheerleader, hiding most of my intellect beneath my ridiculous ponytails.
"What did you call me?" Tommy was cute, but not the most intelligent specimen I'd ever encountered. Not that I expected most people to know what coprolite was, but even "fossilized dinosaur shit" might have passed over his head.
I tossed those ridiculous ponytails of mine. "Just forget it!" I stomped away. This popularity thing was getting to be kind of a drag. It had been fun in ninth grade, a bit less fun last year, but now it was so much effort. If I was going to be totally honest with myself, I'd be forced to admit that I'd picked that stupid fight with Tommy because I was bored. It wasn't that I didn't like my new friends, at least most of the time, but I missed those nights spent with Janie and Eleanor, those nights when we'd be rolling around on the floor with laughter over some crazy thing one of us had said. Whitney and Sarah, my new best friends, were too refined for that sort of thing, although not too refined to roll around on the floor with whoever was the latest flavor of the month.
I was sure word would get back to them about what I'd said and I'd get some flack about it, but I didn't really care at this point. And Whitney would probably be glad because I knew she was kind of interested in Tommy. Well, she could have him. I was tired of being stood up so he could go out drinking with his friends. Not that I totally minded staying at home, since I preferred reading to those interminable parties, but it was the principle of the thing. Maybe I would just make my own plans tonight. And they wouldn't involve coprolite of any type.

(Entry for [ profile] therealljidol
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I really get annoyed when people write 'weary' instead of 'wary.'
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[ profile] therealljidol topic 1: "When you pray, move your feet."

I want this statement to be literal, take it to mean that while you pray, it's only effective if you move your feet. Maybe that explains my unanswered prayers. I pray a lot. Not about everything, like I don't tend to pray about money woes, or that I'll get published. I pray to get pregnant. i pray for a healthy baby. In January while I was in the ER (turned out to be an ectopic pregnancy), a mother ran in with her little girl, screaming, "She's not breathing! Somebody do something!!!" I prayed for that little girl, said that I'd give up my pregnancy if she would be okay. I don't know what happened. I pretend she was fine, as I left the hospital with one fewer tube than I went in with, and no more pregnancy.

This year I have started thinking more about mindfulness, letting go of expectations and having faith in things working out the way they are supposed to in some way. I know this does not entail sitting passively and letting things happen to me. I still have to be active in order to create change. I use prayer as an intention, and I'm still not so great at being as busy as I think I need to be in order to get where I want to be. Most of my energy this year has been wrapped up in trying to get pregnant. I've had faith I'd be successful, while still ending up taking fertility drugs and starting acupuncture. I ran out of Clomid and decided I wasn't quite ready to give up on conceiving with no "big guns" (IUI, IVF). And now I'm pregnant. It's still early, so many things could still go wrong, but this one is in the right place, with a beating heart.

I don't talk about my faith much. I don't care what other people believe, and I don't like it when people try to force other people into one path or another. It makes me uncomfortable. I think I'm incredibly lucky that so many of my prayers have been answered, although I suppose I conveniently forget the ones that weren't. And I know it's not because I'm some fantastic Christian. Maybe it's because I'm always moving my feet--I am a constant fidgeter.
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Because I have this crazy image in my head that the more things I have on my plate, the more productive I'll be, I've decided to give [ profile] therealljidol a try this go round....
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I am watching "When Fish Attack." So why have there been stories on WHALES and ELEPHANT SEALS?????? NOT FISH!!!!!

Okay, so they just said it's REALLY called "When Fish (and Other Sea Creatures) Attack." But it seems like they could have just called it when Sea Creatures Attack and that would have been a lot simpler.
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1. The Likeness by Tana French
I thought this book was incredibly sad. And it reminded me of the Donna Tartt book The Secret History. I'll be reading the next Tana French book soon, like I'll probably start it tomorrow.

2. Faithful Place by Tana French
This book was sad, but not nearly as sad as her other two. I quite enjoyed this one; in fact, I read it between 1 a.m. and 6:30 a.m.
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The alchemy of murder by Carol McCleary

Appetites : why women want by Caroline Knapp

Frostbite : a [Vampire Academy novel] by Richell Mead

Invisible boy by Cornelia Read

The invisible circus by Jennifer Egan

The laughing gorilla : the true story of the hunt for one of America's first serial killers by Robert Graysmith

Making the perfect pitch : how to catch a literary agent's eye by Katharine Sands

Marilyn by Gloria Steinem

Marilyn Monroe : the biography by Donald Spoto

Marilyn, a biography by Norman Mailer

North and South by John Jakes

Other eyes by Barbara D'Amato

Revision & self-editing : techniques for transforming your first draft into a finished novel by James Scott Bell

The ultimate Jack the Ripper companion : an illustrated encyclopedia by Stewart P. Evans

Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead

Write great fiction : plot & structure : techniques and exercises for crafting a plot that grips readers from start to finish by James Scott Bell

You can make it big writing books : a top agent shows you how to develop a million-dollar bestseller by Jeff Herman


The likeness by Tana French--finished 2/3
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