Zora Travels

Okay....6 minutes apart

I'm here at Mara's.  Bags are packed.  Kids have all been scooped up from school.  Daniel is practicing his photography.  Her belly is contracting....10 minutes, 7 minutes, 6 minutes.

I hear her laughing.  What an AMAZING person!  She just called in an order for the bakery, oiled her stomach with calendula and is as cool as a cucumber.  I can tell you this, when I'm 2 hours away from birthing a huge human through a very small orifice, I will NOT be ordering baking supplies and oiling my tummy.  I can't say quite what a mess I'll be....but I pity Daniel and my mother who will have to see it all.

"I'm having another one, Amber!" she just called out from the couch.  I'm writing it down.  3:10pm.  Last one at 3:05pm.

Why on EARTH are we still sitting around waiting for pizzas in the toaster oven?????   Shouldn't we be driving to the hospital?  

My jobs today --- 

#1 tell her when I see the head and hair

#2 call Lionel's parents in France with the news of the gender

An update with a picture will come later.  I can't wait to meet the little one.

Ashes, ashes

Ashes float in the air, coat the car, and smudge the sidewalk.  Fires rage throughout the LA area, sending thick blankets of smoke into the sky and sprinkles of gray flakes.  It's an uncomfortably hot day, the air is still.

I feasted on stories of the Obamas this morning in the Times Op-Ed section and I'm about to feast on Mexican food at SuperMex.  My dear friend Kenny from the high school days at Wilson (the only one left) is arriving soon.  He'll immediately salt the chips, crack them with his fist, order a side of guacamole, and a Negro Modelo.  I've known his order ("2 tacos, beans and rice") since junior year of high school when we would go there after drama practice.  We were an odd couple of friends.  The brawny handsome cheerleader-dating lead actor and the barefooted, skirt with bell fringe, supporting actress girl.

***post-lunch photo--- mmmm....Mexican food.  Can you possibly beat the oozing goodness of beans and rice, slipped down with cold beer, and today's bonus....ashes on top.

Our first post-rehearsal drive went something like this.  Kenny sits in my Ford Festiva and immediately tries to tune my radio, I have no stations programmed. 

"What do you listen to?" he inquires.

"Well, I have Credence, Buffalo Springfield...and I think down there is some Janis Joplin," I respond.

"Umm, what about Paula Abdul?"

"Who's that?"

And so has gone many of our days together....but I love him.  He nourishes my soul with compliments and affirmation of all the goodness that I deserve.

My tummy rumbles and my tongue already tastes the salty, gooey, sinful dishes.  Adios!!!

***still no baby, or signs-o-baby in Mara-land...but my cell phone is on***

 

I just returned.  This is the "yes, I deleted it" photo from our lunch.  Retribution from months of never reading my blog.

 

 

Slow night

Although bellies contract....the future organic vegetarian baby is on hold.  I'll sleep in a restless-cell-phone-checking state and hope that it joins us tomorrow.

Sleep soundly, little one.  Tomorrow a gigantic family and circle of friends with loud voices, enormous dogs, bags of cookies, tremendous salads, and oodles of laughter await your arrival.

Little contractions ... every 15

A wee bit of labor has started in Mara-land.  I am so excited.  I have just over an hour before I can race home on the 405.

Oh, man!  Beautiful baby #7.....on their way into the world soon.

I am so darn excited.  I just keep eating this teacher's peanuts.  That can't possibly be okay...a nervous sub eating your secret stash of peanuts. 

"But she's a friend," I say to myself, as I crunch another handful.  "Sorry, Kaitie."

I am such a nervous nelly.....and just so friggin' excited!

***more updates soon...

Another potential birthday

I have bloodshot eyes and a thick mushy brain.  It is 5:48am and after six days at home, I'm going to off to work today.  The tea kettle gains momentum...

Ah, the coffee is steeping.  That will quicken my pulse and clear the webs from my mind.

My cell phone gives me a heart attack.  The ring is outrageously annoying.  That's only one issue.  But there's also two extremely pregnant friends in my life.  I'm on the "call straight away" list for both.  So, I keep my cell phone on almost all day.  It rings, I jump.  I see "Mara" or "Ginny" and my heart thumps, my fingers fumble to open the apparatus, my voice shakes as I push "Hello?!?" into the air.

"Hey, what's up?" responds the exploding mother-to-be.  A voice clearly ringing with the tones of bored inquiry and not "hospital-bound" urgency.

My heart slows.  My mind stills.  Yet another day has passed without a baby.  One is dilated to 3 centimeters and a head can be felt.  Another has a ripening cervix. 

We all loudly wish a boy for Mara and Lionel.  Their house overflows with the feminine energy of six females to two males.  A little more balance couldn't hurt (not that we wouldn't bathe another mademoiselle with soft kisses).  And besides, wouldn't a little boy to run around with Ginny's son be fun?

As these two mamas prepare to narrate birth stories this week, Claire's little one splashes around in her Midwestern uterus.  I wish so badly that we were neighbors right now.  I'm always wishing to be geographically closer to Claire; however, her pregnancy has made me crave it even more.  I have these visions of sliding around my living room floor with their toddler.  Duffy crooning "Warwick Avenue" as I drop green food coloring into a gigantic bowl of salty play dough.  I would keep organic cheddar bunnies on hand, make the best animal sounds (international ones even), and do ridiculous things to always snag a smile from the Boose baby.

The paper wrapped in a plastic sleeve has slid onto the grass.  Must drink coffee and read front page and op-ed.  The sky is ripening.  A potential birthday has begun.

The engine in the distance

Okay, it's jumping the gun.  I know it is.  But knowing this doesn't stop me from feeling it.  I'm blue, not a deep shade, just a light robin's egg.  I find myself stuffing my pockets with precious evenings of wine, cheese, laughter, yogurts, secrets, hopes, and desires.  I'm sharing myself, pealing back layers of doubt, picking at scabs of insecurity, and dishing frivolous wishes.  I'm bursting with stories and joy amidst new friends and old.  And all the while, I hear the groan of the moving truck's engine in the distance.  Sometimes the rattle of the heavy door clinking up into the roof is audible while I'm driving towards a fun evening.

Moving was a constant for many years of my childhood.  There was a bright decade of stability alongside a river Methow, albeit now slightly shadowed by knowing my parents were both unhappy. Then the move to Chelan, divorce, move to California and flip-flopping between the two.  I had boxes which stayed packed for years, clearly labeled with contents, just awaiting the next move.  My heart and mind felt perpetually in limbo between parents, loyalties, friendships and homes.  Romances came and went from my parents' lives; I jockeyed for a position in the midst of their post-divorce awakening.

Now, at a time when my profession, friendships, and family float along in a mellow stream, I confront and attempt to embrace the idea of moving once again.  Not moving down the street, or up the road...but perhaps across country.  Setting up our new home in New Haven, Ann Arbor, Austin, or Berkeley.  All of our options glimmer with the potential of new friends, new jobs, and new hobbies. 

Our relationship will be the one constant as the boxes are unpacked and my tension unwinds.  I am that girl that moves across country with her boyfriend so he can go to graduate school.  I never saw myself as "that girl."  What does "that girl" have at the end of this journey?  What does she feel when his friendships develop fast and easy in a grad. school cadre while she asserts her voice amidst teenagers at a new high school?  Catching mere glimpses of other adults at nutrition and lunch.

I touched Daniel's arm today during a back twist in yoga class.  Our flesh met for only an instant but I knew that it was those arms, those inhalations and exhalations, that move the man I love.  Those arms will carry most of our boxes, intermingled contents that have fuzzy ownership, and our mutual sacrifice will take us down this path...a path that currently holds so much uncertainty and anticipation.  On a day like today, it is easy for me to see only my sacrifice.  Loving friends and family fish for my true feelings on these impending changes. 

Which grad. school? Which financial aid package? Which city? Which non-profit? Which job?  Which friendships will endure the distance?  And with all of these questions that swirl in my mind, I seek a gentle route towards the future but more importantly, a calm glow in the present.

I faintly hear the engine groan but louder still is the pull of my mind.  It tells me that down the street, in a quiet Italian cafe, lurks a frothy cappuccino.  I'm going to walk to Aroma di  Roma, sprinkle cinnamon atop the foam, stir in three packets of sugar, and settle into a nook with my book.  My cell phone is off.  This laptop is closing...

New friends and frozen yogurt!

On Sunday evening, Daniel and I wound ourselves into the nooks of Torrance to dine with Alexandra and Gilles.  Alexandra and I met several weeks ago, our toes bubbling at the nail salon, my mouth yammering on to Huney about our upcoming South American adventure.  Alexandra sweetly interrupted with her recommendation of an Andean community center in Peru ... and our friendship has grown from there amidst coffees and spicy dinners. 

Gilles' culinary skills were on full display with balti chicken served aside cardamom cinnamon rice and green beans.  After the main course came my favorite French tradition, the cheese course.  I noticed the gentle weight of their sharp knives, bone and metal mingled, French scrawled on the side.  Peppered goat, pungent blue, and aged brie smeared atop crusty bread and the dependable flow of luscious red wine...a consistent element of dining with all Europeans.  The wine, all of it good, just keeps splashing into your glass.

With bellies full of balti and brie, we sauntered to the couch and Gilles introduced us to his exciting array of metal ring puzzles.  As hot tea cooled and Swiss tiramasu chocolate warmed, we tinkered with the assorted rings as we discussed our philosophies of parenting (it's questionable whether one can actually have a philosophy without yet having children), the redemption of our country for choosing Barack, and the juxtaposition of cuckoo clocks and Peruvian weavings by Tino on their walls.

I love new friendships.  There is a similar anticipation just as in a romantic relationship, of hearing about their first hopes and fears.  The doors they swing open to reveal another layer of themselves.  You invite one another deeper into the caveats of your current, former, and future selves.  I have missed having girlfriends over the last few years.  Friends that have time to grab dinner, drinks, coffees, ride bikes and chat late into the night.

Today was a day filled with sunshine and a crisp fall breeze.  It unraveled along the ocean bike path, onto a porch for lunch overlooking the harbor, and finally to a bustling corner for frozen yogurt.  Whoever dreamt of FroGurtz is a genius!  Alyce, Nataly, Sara, Kalina, Graciela and I filled our own cups with different yogurts, all the while intermingling our own choice of plentiful toppings.  I could happen upon this place every day...and discover such happiness.

Tomorrow I will face a morning filled with slow coffee sipping, Times fingering, and an afternoon yoga class.  Not having a 9-5 job certainly has its good side.

Blue Skies

A glistening sky has burst open on my first day home from work.  I thought I might relish sleeping in, Daniel's goodbye kiss brushing my cheek as he left for the airport and I nestled deeper under the covers, but then I knew that this sleep would push close to noon, yoga class forsaken; my body seemingly never able to naturally rise at 4:00am.

I returned from LAX, having taken Daniel for his flight to Michigan for an MBA weekend, and here I sit.  A cup of black tea, sun beams butter the leaves, a slight breeze rustles the bougainvillea vines.  A little girl in a pink sweatshirt with a helmet slightly askew rides by on her skateboard en route to the elementary school on the corner.

This week has been my first as a substitute teacher.  I've taught for over eight years; it's all my mind has known or considered for so long.  Now, I await phone calls to cover classes and there is no responsibility.  No lesson planning.  No grading.  No essays.  No parents.  But there are also no relationships.  No students who you can depend upon to say "Good Morning" and tell you about their day.  It's a lonely job.  I sit at lunch feeling less invested than my friends.  Less involved, dedicated, committed. 

I know that my upcoming time in Peru and Costa Rica holds great promise.  A gift of time for me to give of myself as a volunteer, soak in a culture, language, and environment completely different from my own.  Daniel and I will spoon in beds within family homes.  Families that have known vast poverty and governmental corruption.  Families that encounter, if not personally experience, true hunger and a lack of educational opportunities. 

Sometimes, when I consider our current volunteer choices, I wonder if we could pick easier non-profits.  Somewhere that has an organized volunteer system in place and relatively little contact with abject poverty.  But then I'm reminded just why I should volunteer.  To go where I am needed and my skills and talents can be used.  If that means helping to establish routines, schedules, and organization within a new NGO, then my giving will have had resonance.

***It's now evening...I forgot to post this earlier.  A morning stretch, Vietnamese noodle salad with my Auntie Barbara, and a delectable night eating chocolate cake with Sara and Graciela.  Daniel's interview today went well in Michigan and he's surely sleeping (or trying to) in preparation for an exciting day at one of his potential MBA schools this next fall.  I hope he lathers in Ann Arbor and he can let me know luscious details about our possible new stomping grounds.

Piglets and Pregnancies

If your headlights had found me crossing 3rd Street on Halloween night, you would have surely noticed that I accompanied a piglet, a pirate, a witch and a devil.  Their feminine charm and candy prowess soon filled various eco-bags with chocolate, suckers, and one neighbor's cruelty -the dreaded apple.  As a person who never trick-or-treated, I besieged my scantily clad flock to justify why simply sitting at home with free candy was not just as fun (and certainly less work).  I tend to think that their front steps, covered in sundry bowls of "good" free candy and flickering with the light of candled pumpkins, is certainly just as much fun as walking the streets of Belmont Shore.

Luckily, it wasn't long before piglet got tired, the pirate needed to pee, and the devil and witch agreed to head home.

Pregnant women surround me.  If all of my gestating friends joined hands, we could easily play London Bridge.  Mara's lovable baby stretches underneath a yoga tank, Ginny's son dances underneath an Indian print, and Claire's bundle blossoms inside the most gourmet uterus in town.  Three beautiful children, all nurtured by these strong women of such internal beauty and intellect.  Three mothers who I have no doubt shall swaddle, serenade, and suckle their young with finesse and humor.

So, how do the triple burgeoning bellies of my friends affect life on the homefront?  Well, almost nightly I issue baby-laced questions or statements...much to Daniel's chagrin...but I can't help it.  The words fly out of my mouth like projectile vomit.  Before I know it, one of these gems has spilled and I'm once again searching his face for just how much of my "mama-madness" he can take.

My potential nightly repertoire:

• I felt _______'s stomach today.  It was CRAZY!  A tiny hand or foot or a butt was rubbing through her skin.  It was like an alien.

• ______ is getting really close.  I wonder if we are on her phone tree to get a call as soon as she goes into labor?

• ______ is thinking of only have one kid.  That's the thing about biological clocks, you can't stop 'em.

• "tick - tick - tick" (sometimes I just sit and wallow inside the reverberating ticking of my clock...wondering if he can hear it)

• ______ is having morning sickness.  I heard that if you eat ginger or saltine crackers it can really help with that.

• Would you like to watch this documentary on natural child birth by Ricky Lake?

• ______ & _______ must be so happy to be pregnant.  Imagine such a strong love producing a baby.

• Look at _____'s baby....she's a little bumblebee.  Look at all 25 pictures of the bee.  See how cute babies are in costumes? 

--- and just when I think I've stopped with the above nonsensical nuggets towards the poor man (who just wants to write his economic thesis while snacking on walnuts and sipping black tea) I occasionally find myself staring forlornly at my left hand.  I sometimes wiggle the finger on my lap (he's still sitting next to me, by the way) and then I giggle, a ridiculous, ashamed tickle of a laugh.

He doesn't seem to notice...the finger wiggling.  Thank God.

Tonight he announced his best friend's girlfriend is pregnant.  Of course she is. Maybe I should call her, provide some solid advice about nausea, tips on writing her birth plan, or the perfect prenatal vitamin.

But don't let this blog for a moment sound like I am not absolutely thrilled to soon stare in absolute wonderment and awe at all of these new babies.  I want to soak in the ultrasound photos, listen to a thousand potential names, feel each bump and roll as the time draws near.  These babies shall melt right into my heart along with the piglets and devils who have already grown up too fast.

Cheers!

It's not often that I enjoy cocktails during the week.  And not just one, mind you, but four...in the afternoon....on a Wednesday.  Sara had orchestrated a wee bit o' drinking at Tantalum in Long Beach.  This restaurant, although you are slightly aware they are trying, pulls off the Asian-fusion look with overt style.  Perched on the corner of two canals; luxury yachts anchor both sides; a striking sun bathed in red streaks, sets behind a miniature Indonesian fishing boat at the bar; and you nestle up to a table bedecked with bamboo candle holders and twig-like silverware.  Dark colors, accented with splashes of vibrant color, swirl within the tapestries, chairs, and food.  But best of all, tropical flowers float atop organic pear martinis and palm fronds dance out of hurricane glasses of sweet acai liquor cocktails. 

I felt very loved on my birthday.  I suppose I've never had an "unloved" birthday; but this one, cast in the middle of a ho-hum work week, was slated to be a "delayed" celebration-type day.  Instead, from my morning desk adorned with an orchid and bottle of wine, to the afternoon cocktails and gold-flecked cake, and finally to decadent cupcakes and ice-cream enjoyed at Mara's, I went to bed smiling and tipsy.  A sugar-induced coma and Daniel's kiss sent me to dream land within seconds.

The montage below has some snazzy photos of the fun day!

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