Mary Bellamy

It was an unexpected evening gathering. Liz came over to watch the season premiere of Mad Men with me. To celebrate, I made an Italian sausage and tomato soup, salad and bread, and we ate on the back porch. We enjoyed the show even though I couldn't find the right cable to hook my laptop to the new television. After Liz left, I began to whip up a batch of The Brownies, prompting the above comment. I can't help being so domestic at times. I have a love affair with food.

Of course it rained. It was time for the Tanana Valley State Fair, right? This year my dance troupe had the honor of being one of the closing acts at the fair. On a rainy Saturday night, we took the stage at 10 p.m. and danced until the fireworks started. There was no covered area for us other than the stage, so we had to hop up and down into the mud and wait in the rain. Still, it was a good end to a great summer of performances.

Although it was a Saturday night and I should have gone out to meet friends, I chose to go home and take a long, hot shower. I mixed up a dirty martini and retired for the night.

My big purchase since buying the house has been a new bed. I'd had my old one for many years, and I was no longer sleeping well. As some people already know, I have a penchant for a high bed. In fact, my bed frame was elevated on 7-inch cinder blocks. Fun fact: New mattresses are much thicker than old mattresses. As a result, my new bed was obscenely high. Like "3 feet off the ground" high. Like "the cat can barely make the leap up" high. Like "this would be easier with a step stool" high. Not a problem. On Friday night, Maegan and I hit Home Depot and I bought some scrap lumber. For $2.01, I was able to make much lower bed raisers (a contradictory concept) and my bed is now accessible once again. And in case you were wondering, it's like sleeping on a marshmallow. I love my new bed.

The weird feeling of home ownership is fading. I still like knowing that I own that squeaky spot in my bedroom floor, but I no longer panic when I think about mortgage payments. In fact, I'm even starting to think about travel again, though I probably can't swing the trip to Asia I was hoping for. (Sorry, Christi, but the ticket alone would be 1.5 mortgage payments!) At this point I'm considering a return trip to Central America for the holidays.

That wireless router problem? I fixed it.
That burlesque show? It's done.
That housewarming party? It was a hit.
That new roommate? She arrives tomorrow.

I'm pretty much settled into the house. There are still issues I need to resolve. For instance, I need a new bed but I also want a new chair. There's not enough storage space for two people in the kitchen if one of those people is me. My temporary solution is a set of shelves in some dead space by the laundry area. My more permanent solution is to build a pantry in that same area.

And I need to tackle the new windows project but Lowe's does not sell the windows that meet current Energy Star requirements for tax refunds. I'll need to special order them, which means I also need to figure out how exactly to measure the damn window properly. There are 6 identically sized windows in the house, but my numbers don't match up with standard window sizes. I refuse to believe they are all custom windows. Since it will take about a month to get the windows in, I don't know if I'll be able to replace any of them this year. In theory, I could do all 6 in one weekend with a few dedicated helpers, but I wouldn't get the windows until mid-September at the earliest.

I'm off to Anchorage this weekend. Liz and I are leaving early work early on Thursday. After 6 hours of Neil Diamond, Avenue Q and general cattiness, we'll be there by the evening. Friday will be a relaxing day of shopping and lunch with Joanna, followed by a show where I only have to perform for TWO numbers! Then two days of dancing with Mira Betz and we're back on the road to Fairbanks.

Just got home. 4 shows in 4 days. I'm exhausted but happy to say I really brought it with my song tonight. It helps that it was a theater crowd. But still, really really exhausted. I have 3 days of *just* dance classes and rehearsals, then I have to be in Denali for another show. The weekend after that I have to be in Anchorage for a show. The weekend after that I've got a show at the Tanana Valley State Fair. When did my hobbies take over my life?

In other news, my wireless router has now defeated two men. I am bringing over a third tomorrow night. If he fails too, I am buying a new router. I can't live a life tied to one place for Internet.

I have no internet at home. No local phone either, though I get cell reception so it hasn't really been a problem. But no internet? That's a problem.

I like the web. I like to check my e-mail before I go to sleep. I like to wake up in the morning and read my feeds before I get out of bed. I like to find things like this:


On the bright side, I'm probably getting more unpacking done without the distractions of the web.

Spam bots have hit my blog. I currently don't approve each comment, but I do have word verification enabled. Therefore I can only assume that some poor little sap in a third world country was getting $0.10 an hour to post bullshit on my site today. They all came in around 3:30 a.m., and had a link to some sort of satellite TV company. They have all been deleted. Play nice, kids, or I'll take your privileges away.

I close on my house at 1 p.m. today. Last night Joyce served me a potent Bloody Mary and then let me order furniture online. I reviewed the order this morning, and have no regrets.

Got into work today and found several messages and e-mails. My closing has been moved up to tomorrow. It wouldn't be a problem at all except that the insurance is remarkably slow.... A few games of phone tag later, and the binder is finally at the bank and the title company. Now I just need to get a check for my closing costs and start getting my signing hand warmed up.

You know what will keep my mind off of the show opening on Friday? Peeling back one of my toenails at rehearsal tonight. Sigh. I'm really looking forward to shoving my foot into high heels now.

The lead up to opening night is always excruciating.

Sunday: finish teaching a choreography, then 2 full run throughs
Monday: gym, work, 2 hours of show rehearsal
Tuesday: gym, work, dance class, full run through
Wednesday: gym, work, 2 hour rehearsal for Cold Fusion, promo show at Marlin (maybe)
Thursday: no gym (can't take it any more), work, full run through, dance class
Friday: gym, work, show opens
Saturday: Cold Fusion performance, then another show
Sunday: usher at Othello, maybe breathe and do laundry

In house news, the bank has been trying for 3 weeks to get confirmation from UAF that I work there. I put my HR person on that today. I'm supposed to close in 9 days. I've figured out mostly how I want to paint my bedroom. I've got fabric picked out for a new headboard, though not for the curtains yet. I found out that the credenza I wanted to get for the living room is NOT available for the free "ship to store" option, and that shipping will cost more than the furniture. Time to start hitting up stores in town to see what they've got. I also need some silly, basic things like a reel lawn mower and a ladder. Oh yeah, and some new doorknobs, too. Nothing says "I own the place" like changing the locks.

In personal life news .... oh, wait, I'm too busy with dance to have a personal life these days. well, that's not entirely true. On July 4, Joyce, Dara and I floated down the Chena River in a canoe, stopping at bars along the way. And I've been discussing with Joyce my growing fixation with a man I know. I think it will come to nothing, but it amuses me for now.

Palin just said she's resigning? Huh? What? Oh, sure, I'm happy about this, but a little unexpected, no?

Nibbles and I have touched down on 3rd Avenue. Despite some panic attacks, she did survive the trip here. Have I mentioned how awesome my friends are for letting me stay with them? Also, Joyce's minivan is even better than a pickup truck for moving stuff. That thing is huge!

I am almost, ALMOST out of the house on Baurick Court. I've got a few boxes left to pack, some garbage to throw out and a whole lot of cleaning to do. I want my hefty deposit back. That's more than a mortgage payment.

Now that this house stuff is all settled-ish, I'm starting to think about the realities of living there. For instance, I bought a new television, so I need a way to both display it and maximize my storage. I've come up with this:

Also, I need a game plan for colors. I'm thinking a teal in the bedroom, with a lighter color inside the closet. Maybe a light purple. I might use that same color to redo the dressers, and I plan to make an upholstered headboard. Jay Cable is going to loan me his jigsaw to do it, provided I agree to not cut my fingers off. I should probably see what upholstery fabric I can find in town before I go buying paint.

Today was a good day at work. I took a group of interns on a hike up Angel Rocks, then went to the hot springs for a few hours, then dinner at Silver Gulch Brewery and dessert at Hot Licks.

I'm home now, slightly sunburned and definitely tired. Tomorrow is the first UAF Really Free Market, and I'm going early to drop off a bunch of stuff I'm getting rid of in this move. I got the appraisal back from the bank today, and the house came in at the right price. It's looking like this house-buying stuff is a done deal. That should give me a nice place to put the new television.

I've started watching some Star Trek: Voyager, despite the fact that the boys at Make It So once voted the entire cast as the worst actor in the history of Trek. Maybe that's weighing on my mind, but I've notice that DVDs are making a subtle editorial comment. The "Launch" button for each episode thus far has been positioned over what is, frankly, the rectum of the ship. Seriously.

I bought a new television today. I was only sort of considering it, but then I found a 32" LCD that was discounted for being the floor model. I figure I can justify this by pointing out that my LAST impulse purchase netted me a $130K mortgage. Also, my new living room is small and the old television ironically takes up more space. Plus now Bollywood nights can return to my house.

Bob is gone. Celine is gone. I am sleeping on an air mattress as I slowly depart. Air mattresses are cold and uncomfortable, and I look forward to being reunited with my mattress and boxspring at Joyce's on Saturday. She and Michael have graciously offered to let me bring my cat and crash in their guest room until I close on the house. How much do my friends rock??

Packing has sucked. Please don't ever let me buy clothes again. I'm a fashion plate, but that comes at a price. That price is a massive wardrobe. I've been trying to cull things. The stiletto Timberlands are finally going away. I suspect more stuff will be going away when I try to unpack.

Tomorrow I am going hiking for work. In an effort to document our summer interns, I will be scrambling up Angel Rocks, then going to soak in the hot springs. It's rough. I realized today that this probably means I need a bathing suit. Luckily, I found one I had not yet packed. After hot springs and dinner, I plan to come home and pack pack pack. I'm really ready for that "moving" montage...

I get no respect from that beast. To be fair, she's being extra needy because all my belongings are slowly disappearing from the house.

The video was shot late last night/early this morning. Yesterday was kind of great and sucky all at once. It was solstice: Yay! I woke up to rain: Boo! The rain cleared in time for our performances at the street festival: Yay! I ate lots of fried foods: Yay! I came home and got a migraine: Boo! I attempted to nap it away, to limited success: Yay? Boo? I then got nauseated, but had not yet packed the Alka Seltzer: Yay! My nap kept me from going to sleep again: Boo! I watched a zombie movie instead: Yay! I woke up and still had a headache: Boo!

I called out sick at work. Now it's hours later and I'm still in a bit of pain. I think this is because of the air mattress that I will call my bed for the next week. Marmian and I moved my bed and couch on Saturday, and I will officially begin squatting in Joyce's dance room on Saturday. Until then, it's air mattress time. This kind of reminds me of the rebound guy I dated last year who believed there was no finer bed on Earth than a futon mattress on the floor. Every morning felt like a college weekend. Ugh.

Last night I dreamed that I moved into my new house. I was in the backyard when I noticed a problem with one of the shingles, so I tore it off of the roof. Then I started tearing off more shingles. I had removed about 1/3 of the roof when I realized that I didn't actually have any of the materials necessary to repair the roof. "Don't worry about it," I told my dream self, "you can just put a tarp over it until you're ready to fix it."

This dream means I am:

a) nervous about owning a house
b) a true Alaskan when it comes to repairs and quick fixes
c) all of the above

It's time to start packing stuff up again. Marmian will be here with her truck soon.

How come women can have a baby shower every time they get pregnant, but not have a bridal shower every time they get married?

This moving business isn't good for me. I'm so busy I don't have time to make food, which means getting takeout if I even notice that I'm hungry.

I think I'm getting less panicked about buying a house, but I'm getting more panicked about singing in public in a few weeks. Why did I agree to do that show?

I'm having a really hard time finding a manual lawn mower. I think I might have to order one off the Internet. That makes for an ironically large carbon footprint for the human-powered machine.

I can't be the only person amused by the fact that an aerospace reporter is named Miles O'Brien, right??

Seriously, it was a BIG spider!

My roommate killed a polar bear. No, really.

Read about it here.

Maybe I should stop making fun of him so much. Nah.

Since my new house (ack!) will have cellular reception, I'm debating whether I should just ditch the landline and go with only a cell phone. It seems logical, but I also want to have Internet access at home. And thus far I can't seem to find just Internet access. Well, I can, but it's $40/mo as opposed to $50/mo for a phone, Internet and possibly cable bundle. That's stupid.

I breifly decided that a new house (ack!) warranted a proper, grown-up purchase. Specifically, I wanted a piece of art by Bill Hammond. I saw some of his stuff in a gallery in Wellington, NZ, and it kind of stuck with me.



See what I mean? Creepy and gorgeous. The one above is "The Fall of Icarus" and below is "Placemakers II."



Alas,Mr. Hammond does not seem to have a website. The one site I found that sold quality work started their lithographs at $2,500. Ouch. I've found one NZ print store that has two of his prints, "Placemakers I" and "Jingle Jangle Morning" for sale for NZ$80 each. I think it might be worth it. But it won't be the same as seeing his art up close, seeing the paint that has poured down the canvas.

I haven't been here much lately. Mostly because I've been here: http://marybuysahouse.blogspot.com/

Yeah, so I kind of bought a house. Ack. I get nauseated every time I think about the fact that I'm signing off on a 30-year mortgage. Oh, sure friends tell me that I can leave it after 5 or 7 years, but STILL!! That's a longer commitment than I've ever managed in my 32 years.

Anyway, to save you all from too much boredom as I talk about disclosures and home inspections, I'm going to be busy over there for a while. But, to sum it up:

• I bought a house
• It seems pretty cool
• I am closing in mid-July and am quasi-homeless from July 1 until then
• I am excited and nauseated all at the same time (seriously - who does this so quickly? I decided LAST WEEK that maybe I ought to consider buying a house. I made up my mind on Thursday, viewed the house on Saturday, put in an offer on Monday and it was accepted on Tuesday)
  

I think I'm going to take te plunge. It's time to be a grown-up and admit that I've lived in Alaska for 6.5 years. I'm staying. As such, I think I am going to buy a house.

Oh, originally my plan was to build a house next year, but damn that Obama and his $8K tax credit! Stupid economic stimulus! I don't know if I'm going to find the perfect house in the perfect location for the right price. I do have until November to take advantage of the tax credit, but I also have to move out of my place by then end of this month. Which means either buy something right now or put my stuff in storage and move into the cheapest month-by-month apartment I can find. Hello, Fairview Manor!

I believe the house-viewing madness starts on Tuesday.

The reports have varied from 3.75 to 3.98, and are currently reading at 3.8. I think I'm ready for the earthquakes to end and the fire season to begin.

Here's a lede you won't see in tomorrow's paper.

Although she's lived in her Rosie Creek house for two years, Mary Haley said she never felt any quakes until last week. "I was in bed the morning after my birthday, and I wasn't sure if it was News-Miner reporter Amanda Bohman, who was laying next to me, or if it was seismic activity, but I felt the earth move," Haley said.

The ground has been shaking again which is weird, because I really never feel earthquakes here. I was at the Loon waiting for a concert to start last night when I felt a small tremor, which Marmian pegged as a small quake. It was a 3.5, and the aftershocks were mostly small with the exception of a 1.86, which we didn't really feel anyway because Greg Brown rocks!

Since it was my birthday, I was forcing people to drive me around and I insisted we go to the Marlin after the show. Chris Juhlin was playing there, so it was another good time that involved numerous shots. Hey, it was my birthday! Although I'm used to seeing one coworker there, I was startled when another showed up. I've never seen him out in public before, let alone dancing and possibly drinking.

Since Amanda was my designated driver and had to go to the airport for a story in the morning, she just spent the night at my place. She had expressed a little jealousy over the earthquake a few weeks ago, since she didn't feel it out at her place. We went to sleep, and that's when the action started.

6:16 ..... 3.23
6:20 ..... 2.35
6:23 ..... 1.59
7:29 ..... 2.93
9:07 ..... 2.14

We woke up for the 6 a.m. ones, drifted back to sleep and woke up again for the 7:30 quake. At 9 we were up and getting ready for a run to Lulu's Bagels. It's been quiet since then, and I'm wondering if these little earthquakes are releasing the energy or are building up to something bigger.

On my birthday, xkcd? Really?


No, fuck you.

It's 11:30. The champagne is gone. I should be cleaning. I should be packing. I should be finishing choreography to teach on Sunday. I should be getting ready for Clucking Blossom tomorrow. I should be doing lots of things. But, as I mentioned, it's 11:30 a.m. and I have finished a bottle of champagne.

My nerdy coworkers pointed out that I'm only 20 if you count in hexdecimal. I like this plan. I hope I get carded tonight, since I'm only 20. This is already shaping up to be a much better year than last year.

That makes two years in a row that I've been woken up at 8:30 a.m. on my birthday. Someone has to pay. And it's time to start drinking a bottle of champagne.

A friend and I were discussing Facebook when I came up with a brilliant plan. My goal is to be the first person to comment on every person's status update. I shall use the following eloquent prose: First!

I resisted the urge to psychoanalyze the kid any further. Y'know - probing questions about why he/she doesn't have any friends, sympathetic comments that it must be hard to not have friends, the sort of stuff that would linger in his/her mind for years.

I survived kayaking yesterday. Normally I wouldn't put it in such dire terms, but this was no simple paddling trip. Our guides began the day by asking us what we were scared of. So I mentioned my fears of tipping the kayak. Brilliant idea. That's exactly what they made us do. Crap. Those boats felt a lot tippier than the ones we used on Doubtful Sound in New Zealand, too. Case in point: Joyce tipped while we were playing sponge tag. Then we all had to practice water rescues after the guides demonstrated with her. I think she and I will continue to enjoy the water together, including a possible booze cruise down the Chena sometime soon.

The weather has been glorious for the holiday weekend. Very sunny and warm. It makes me sad to stay inside and clean and sort through stuff to get rid of before I move. On the bright side, I only have to work 3 days, and then I'm off for another long weekend. I refuse to work on my birthday.

I went to bed at 4 a.m. today. Not for any lascivious reasons - I just wasn't tired since I took a nap after work. The time I chose to go to bed is key, because it means I was not very far into my sleep cycle and not yet at my deep REM sleep when an earthquake hit at 5:30.

It wasn't particularly big - current reports have it at about 3.59 and about 8 miles down. The center was approximately 1 mile from my house (if you can trust Google maps and GPS coordinates), which explains why I felt this one and a few aftershocks. It should be noted that there are many, many earthquakes in Alaska, but it's a very big state. Check it out. I woke up about a minute before this one hit, and then had to comfort a freaked-out Nibbles.

Growing up in Connecticut, I never really had to deal with earthquakes. It just wasn't our thing. Hurricanes, blizzards, ferocious thunderstorms? I'm used to all of those (and my, how I miss thunderstorms). So the first quake really surprised me. I timed my move to Alaska perfectly and arrived a few months AFTER the big quake in Denali in 2002. I was working the night shift at the News-Miner's copy desk when I felt my first earthquake. It wasn't bad in retrospect, but I'm just not used to the feeling of buildings moving. I'm sure I've slept through many quakes since then. Still, it's a nice start to a long weekend.

Surprisingly, I don't think I made my injury any worse by running the triathlon. Even more surprisingly (and not to digress, but this is why we need comparative and superlative adverbs - "surprisinglier"), I finished the race in 2:02:15. In 2006, I ran a slightly longer course in 2:02:06. The surpisingliest thing of all is that it took me 00:01:25 longer to do a 3 mile run on crutches than it did for me to do a 4 mile run with non-broken feet.

Oralee seems upset that I beat her swim time with a broken foot. For me, the more relevant facts are these:

• I did not finish last overall.
• I did not finish last in my age group.
• I did not finish last in any of the legs or in the splits.

Seriously, I was on crutches, and I still beat people in the run. It was quite fun to watch the walkers as they noticed my crutch and began to reluctantly jog. Slackers!

Liz and I are feeling super-motivated now and may very well run the Chena Lakes Triathlon in July. Outdoor swim - brr!

I started dancing again yesterday. Well, I started moving to the music. My footwork is awful because I still can't put too much weight on my left foot, which is where most of the weight goes in both ATS and bhangra.

Both of my roommates are away for a while. And though I should be working on burlesque choreography, I think I'm just going to send out some e-mails, fire up the sauna on Saturday and see who shows up. I crave a nice night at home with friends, and it may be one of the last times I use the sauna before moving. I hate moving.

I’ve done some foolish things in my life. When I was 7 or 8, an abandoned barn in the field behind our house collapsed at one end. As soon as the first snow fell, my sister and I decided to use the rickety structure as a makeshift sledding hill, climbing up the roof to the standing end, then zipping down to the bottom. I’m only bringing this up so my actions of today seem less foolish in comparison.

I tried training for the Gold Nugget Triathlon. It was on one of those training runs two weeks ago that I broke my foot. Stress fracture, left foot. And I didn’t really discuss this much because I didn’t want any lectures, but I decided that I was going to do the triathlon anyway.

It seemed like a logical plan when I was up in Fairbanks. It even still made some sense when I got to Anchorage. But as the bus pulled up to the race site this morning, I started to doubt the wisdom of this plan. It didn’t help that some of the top athletes were still on the course, zipping in on bikes, heading out for the run. Suddenly the course seemed awfully … long.

After getting my chip and a warm-up swim, I began the long process of waiting in line. With the regular race site closed for construction this year, 1,400 racers had to go through one 6-lane pool for the swim. It was complicated to say the least. Someone took my crutch at the start and was holding it for me when I got out of the pool. The swim is usually my best part, though it was abysmal this year trying to get around the doggy paddlers and do a snake swim. I still managed to pass a lot of people in the pool.

I don’t want to think about my T1 time, since I had to use the crutch to get out to my bike, then sit down to wrap my ankle and hop my bike across the mat. Someone told me the bike course was flat this year, but someone lied. I did some passing, did a lot of getting passed. At one point the pain in my foot was too much, so I hopped off the bike on the big hill. I snagged a road bike at a bike sale after I broke my foot, so I hadn’t really trained with it at all. I just kept reminding myself that at least I didn’t have to run.

Just when I was thinking about taking another break, I turned the corner and saw the race site again. I parked my bike, grabbed my crutch and headed out for the “run.” Do you know what pain is? Pain is using a crutch to hobble through the run section of a triathlon. I did no passing here. I’d like to think I took the slow, monastic approach. At my slow rate, I had a chance to see everyone else on the course and to cheer them on. And they had the chance to tell me how much I rock. No, seriously. Among the many things I heard were:

• You’re amazing.
• You’re my hero.
• You get major badass points for that.

Not once did anyone hit on the truth: I am stubborn.

I kept switching the crutch from arm to arm. It sort of helped, in the sense that the chafing and bruising was spread evenly along both sides of my body. And while I can’t deny that it was nice to hear everyone cheering me on and to see groups stand up to clap for me as I came back from the run course, I don’t think I’d do it again. I don’t think I need ego boosting if it comes coupled with exhaustion like I feel right now. Between finishing the race and the drive home, I’m beat. I showered. I ate cake. And now I’m watching a Nazi zombie movie and getting ready for hours of blissful sleep.

Yes, it seems that I have broken my foot. Just in time for the triathlon. The "no refunds" triathlon. The "T-shirts for finishers only" triathlon. I'm still mulling my options.

My car is getting older, as evidenced by its increasing mileage. Of course, I just took the picture because of the coincidental odometer readings.

It's spring. I have my first mosquito bites and on Saturday I watched a beautiful parade of ice floating by on the river. The weather has been unseasonably warm lately, and everything is melting at once. I suspect that the hills will start to turn green sometime soon.

The warm weather also means that it's time to go looking for land. I'm meeting with a potential builder on Saturday to suss out a two-acre plot and talk about house designs. I spent some time eyeballing a friend's house at a party on Saturday, trying to get an idea for how my plans might work.

In dance news: The show on Friday went well. It was not our show, but we were the coolest act there. I also managed the impossible: a complete costume change backstage in 12 seconds. Yes, someone was timing it! In addition, there will be another burlesque show this summer. It will be a 3-week run in July. Stay tuned for more.

After I stretched my ears to a 4, I said I'd never stretch my second ear piercings. I lied. I just moved them to 14. What can I say?

Tattoo plans are moving slowly. The artist in Anchorage does really great work, but it takes her up to a week to reply to my e-mails, and then the response is sometimes, "Sorry, that time got booked." Joyce and I might be taking a special trip down just for tattoos. However, I still want to go look at the portfolios at Body Piercing Unlimited.

I've got a performance tonight. My solo is going to be improv. Super duper improv. It's a sword piece, and I just got a new sword video in the mail last night, which has thrown off my game plan. Too many new moves to try!

I know my plan is to build a house next summer, but I've recently seen ads for two cute places that are already built. Why did the mortgage industry have to collapse? I want one of those low-money-down loans! Patience. Patience. It will all be worth it in the end when I have the perfect place.

I had to get some blood taken last week. This involved an early morning drive across town and two attempts to find a vein that worked. It left me with a tiny red mark on each arm. However, the clinic did not give my blood to the FedEx guy who came by later that morning, which meant another early morning drive across town. This time the nurse found a vein on the first try. And as a bonus, I do not have a tiny red mark on my arm. Nope. Not this time.



I look like a junkie. My arm is beat to hell for two vials of blood. What happened? I feel like my father is just going to laugh at this post, because his entire body pretty much looked like this after last summer. But I have a performance Friday night. I'm going to have to put makeup on my freaking arm. Lovely. I'm going to a party this weekend, where every eligible man I meet will assume I enjoy red wine, long walks on the beach and heroin. Brilliant.

So now you can imbed YouTube videos directly into Gmail chat? Cool new feature that I've heard nothing about.

Despite the fact that he works in an open office, I like sending my friend videos and links that he must visit. It makes him a bad employee but makes me a very good friend.

I asked Tom if anyone was going to sing the song from the Star Wars Holiday Special at Bea Arthur's funeral. He said it was thematically appropriate, but probably not. So instead I'll post the clip here for your enjoyment.




And no, the quality really doesn't get much better than this. Ah, Star Wars Holiday Special, how you haunt me!

I was not feeling the swimming mojo this morning, which is unfortunate for a few reasons.

1. I am getting some henna done today for a performance this weekend. Chlorine kills the henna pretty quickly, so that makes today my last swim of the week.
2. No one had said anything yet, but the pool is closing next week. I really wish UAF would give us notice about these things. I'm sure by Thursday someone will have scrawled a note and stuck it on the locker room doors, but that's about all the warning we ever get that our pool is going out of commission.

Spring might actually be here. It was in the high 60s yesterday. That's driving-with-the-window-open weather. It made the dance studio rather warm for rehearsal, but I'll gladly suffer that for now.

May is cursed. And it's snowing in April.

When I signed up for the triathlon, I stayed up until midnight so that I could get in. I got myself a volunteer spot in the pool, which means I can run early. The volunteer coordinator has told me that too many people signed up for the pool and I can get moved to parking. I understand too many people signed up. I saw that it went to -18 before they closed. But there were still pool spots available after my registration was completed, so why am I getting bumped?

Also, the tattoo plans are not coming along so well. I couldn't convince the artist to come in on her day off, so instead I decided to stay a few extra days in Anchorage. I asked her if she had any spots that day, and she said she was open. I replied precisely 6 minutes later to tell her that I wanted the spot and asking if she needed a deposit. Two days later she replied to tell me it had been booked and I really needed to come in to put down a deposit. Sorry, but I'm not going to spend 12 hours on the road to give you a deposit. I've asked about the first weekend in July, when I've got a four-day weekend. If she can't do it then, I'm not going with her. Yes, her work is beautiful, but I don't need to deal with any more flaky artists. I've got a backup plan that's actually located in Fairbanks.

My friend told me she found the perfect man for me. Except he lives in another country. How is that perfect, exactly??

I brought my new running shoes to work today. But I'd forgotten that I washed my running clothes at home before I went to Anchorage. I had my swimsuit, but didn't have my shower stuff.

As a result, I tried to do a brick after work. A mini brick. Very mini. About 5 miles of biking and a mile of running. And it kicked my ass. You just can't train for that in a gym. A stationary bike or treadmill or track are not the same. I've got less than a month to get ready for the triathlon. I'll do it, but right now it worries me.

I'm back from an extended trip south. The drive down Thursday was mostly uneventful except for a double trailer truck suddenly deciding to pass when I was already halfway up his side. I met up with Adam for Himalayan food. He's very familiar and comfortable, but I'm pretty certain we never actually hung out in Mystic together. John and Joanna were delighted to see me, even more so when I brought in a container of brownies.

The Adobe workshops were somewhat helpful. They didn't expand my knowledge for InDesign or Photoshop, but helped a bit with Illustrator and a lot with Fireworks and Flash. I bought new running shoes while in town, since my last pair date from 2006. I also forced Joanna to leave the baby, get dressed up and go have sushi with me. When packing the next morning, I liberated the most delightful polka dot dress from the confines of her closet.

The Palmer workshop was fun. Most of the people seemed pretty new to ATS dance, and we were called upon to demonstrate changing the lead at one point. The evening performance was a casual hafla at a restaurant. Anyone could hop up and dance, which led Liz and I to spontaneously revisit our bhangra. Joanna and Melissa showed up and joined us in a 5-person ATS formation. This proved the point that ATS dancers can share the same stage without practice, as we all managed to follow each other's lead.

My return trip home was boring. I hadn't tightened my gas cap properly, so my cruise control wasn't working, which annoyed me mildly. When I got to Hindi class, I found that Joyce and Liz had broken down outside of Nenana. They were in the process of being rescued by Michael and thus did not make class.

While I was in Anchorage, Joanna took me tattoo shopping, and I think I've found the artist for my next piece. The only sticking point here is that she is 350 miles away and doesn't work on any of the days that I'm going to be there. I plan to break her will and make her come in on her day off to tattoo me. My friends are confident that I will win this battle.

I'm off to Anchorage today. Because I'm a genius, I'm combining both a work trip (Adobe conference) and a pleasure trip (visiting with Jo, eating Indian food, a dance workshop).

I think I am starting to understand the Alaskan psyche. If you grew up in Fairbanks, you are from a small town masquerading as a city. It's 350 miles of emptiness to get to the next largest place. Anchorage isn't bad, but neither is it good. Somehow all Fairbanksans end up making a trip to Mecca (aka Portland) in their 20s and decide that it is the finest city to ever grace this earth and no other city shall do. I've got the opposite view. I grew up on the East Coast halfway between New York and Boston. I know of cities and civilization. Without being hampered by the perspective of an isolated childhood, I have chosen Fairbanks.

With that being said, I do still enjoy my occasional trips to Anchorage. And I'm really looking forward to Joyce's reaction, as it will be her first trip there. Specifically, I want to see how she handles the empty road. Imagine driving from Washington D.C. to New York. Only there is nothing on the road between the two. No towns. No rest areas. Not really any houses. I plan to crank up the iPod and try to avoid any bathroom breaks.

I do have a few errands to accomplish in Anchorage.

• Get new running shoes. I just discovered that mine are about 3 years old. Time to hit up Skinny Raven for a new pair.
• Check out the portfolios at Anchorage Tattoo. I need someone who can do good line work.
• Eat at Yak and Yeti, the new Himalayan restaurant. I'm going to meet a man there who I haven't seen in about 14 years, if that. We ran in the same crowd when I was a teenager in Mystic, and he apparently has been living in Anchorage for many years now.
• General shopping and/or eating that I can't get in Fairbanks.

I'm surprised that no one bitched me out over the use of kevadväsimus in a previous post. I know you all had to look it up. I only became familiar with the word because I follow an Estonian blogger.

Friday night was kick ass, to say the least. The Marlin was full of strangers (very rare) and rumor has it that we raised more than half of the money we need to put on Clucking Blossom. Saturday began strangely. I decided to make cookies and got frightened by the fact that it really only takes about 10 minutes to put together cookie batter. The recipe will need to withstand further experimentation, but it was still a quick batch. I later realized that there was a method to my madness when a good friend called with some good news. I can't share their news yet, but we met for dinner and I handed over a dozen blueberry chocolate chip cookies. Dinner (Thai, of course) was followed by drinks at a bar swanky enough to support both the desire for martinis and the desire for scotch.

Saturday night was spent in the most shameful manner possible. I am now a pseudo-master of the following: two-step, cha cha, waltz, polka and swing. And you can cross "doing the two-step to a country cover of Bon Jovi" off my life list. Deep, deep shame! But I love the dancing! My friends and dance partners call me a dancing savant.

As the possibility of building a house grows stronger and stronger, I'm moving into the dreaming stage. You know, the part where you plan a million different iterations of the same thing. I imagine it's what some girls do with their weddings. But since I don't know if I'll ever get married, I've funneled all my what-color-should-my-bridesmaids-wear, what-should-our-first-dance-be energies into creating the most perfect house for me possible.

Here's what I do know: It's going to be small and energy efficient. The entire reason behind building instead of buying is that I want it to be just right for me. I want one bedroom. One glorious bedroom with clothing and shoe storage beyond Imelda Marcos' wildest dreams. Why do I need two bedrooms? People tell me I need a guest bedroom. I've had guests approximately 3 times since I moved to Alaska. And almost always in the summer. I'll just build a guest yurt. People have also cited resale value. I'm not building a house with the plan to sell it in a few years. Or possibly ever. If I just wanted to own something with the intention of eventually leaving it, I would buy some hideous little 3-bedroom, 1.5-bathroom ranch house.

My priorities for house extras seem to go in the following order:

1. sauna
2. hot tub
3. garage

Yeah, garage is last on the list. Wait, put "guest yurt" somewhere above it.

So with a basic design in mind, I've started wondering recently about my kitchen needs. This is very important to me. I lovelovelove to cook. I need to have enough space and storage in my kitchen without going overboard. And lately I've been pondering the double oven. Out of everyone I know, I'm the most likely to ever actually make use of a double oven. But what is really the point? Sure, I can cut my baking time in half with two ovens, but isn't there sort of a zen to baking? My parents have double ovens and I can think of only a few occasions throughout the year when both are in use. Those are usually the big holiday family dinners. I'm single and will live alone. I will not be having those dinners. Perhaps it's better to forego spending the money for a double oven and instead get one really kick-ass stove/oven. I don't mean a professional-quality one with 27 burners. Again, how often is that necessary? I just mean brand new, fully functional. Maybe even with an oven that maintains a proper temperature without my constant monitoring. Oh, and I think I'm finally going to go to gas. I've never had a gas stove. They kind of scare me. It's my shameful cooking secret.

No one told me The Reader had that much sex. I knew that there was sex in it, but not quite so graphic. And yet there I was. Sitting in the dark. Next to my ex-boyfriend. Oy vey.

Lost is getting absurd. I couldn't even begin to sum it up with one of my breathless monologues. And yet it's still some of the best television out there today. What other show can make me scream "No!!!" and Yes!!!" within 20 seconds???

I am officially signed up for the Gold Nugget Triathlon. I got back in the pool mere hours after signing up. It turns out I'm still kind of good at swimming. Shit, I did not use "and yet" in this paragraph.

Maja brought some sort of raspberry, cream cheese, cake concoction to the Clucking Blossom meeting today. It was delicious and put me in a mind to experiment. How do you think chocolate whoopie pies with lemon and raspberry filling would taste?

Up late. The registration opened for the Gold Nugget Triathlon at 12:01 a.m. I stayed up to register both myself and my coworker Oralee. Across town, Hailey should be registering herself and Liz. The race is on. And I'm going to dig out my swimsuit and go to sleep. It's time to start training.

I think the end times are near. Examples:

• a volcano keeps erupting in the south, which seems to be affecting my lifestyle 350 miles away
• my sister got a cell phone

This weekend was .... interesting. Friday night was a slapfest. I could explain more but won't. Saturday was the final meeting of the Battlestar Galactica group. The finale had a bit of the Return of the King effect. I liked the ending, all 27 of them. At some point, you've just got to stop filming.

Have I ever mentioned that I am a strange draw for people in Tennessee? I don't know how, but they keep finding me. I'm starting to wonder if they have my picture up on billboards or something.

And finally: It is almost spring (no, really!) which means it's time to kick it into gear for Clucking Blossom. May 30 at Birch Hill. But more importantly, the fundraisers are starting up. First up: This Friday at the Marlin. Open mic hosted by Carrot Puddin', featuring Worst Band in Fairbanks.

Spring is on its way. I know it is. The sky is staying lit until past 9:30 at night. I hear more birds. It even got above freezing a few days ago. I have a stockpile of new, impractical shoes that I can't wait to wear on non-icy ground. So why is it that I still feel a touch of kevadväsimus?

This morning I looked out the window and thought that the sky looked like a gray, dreary, snowy sort of sky. But at least it wasn't snowing. When I got out of the shower, I noticed my car was white instead of blue. And now there is a downpour of white fluffy flakes.

I'm starting to understand why so many people commit suicide in the spring. They just get tired of hoping that winter is over. Me? I just want to wear a dress without my winter coat.

Where to begin? On Thursday I was notified of a superheroes and villains costume party, which coincided with Dara’s birthday. Last minute, but that’s just more of a challenge for me. I skipped yoga Friday night in favor of shopping for supplies. On Saturday I baked 2 dozen Irish Car Bomb cupcakes and made a costume. I was just pining up the hem when Dara called to report that our plans had fallen through for the evening, as the only person we would know at the party wasn’t feeling well and would be skipping.

I’ve got the cojones to show up in costume anyway, but it was her birthday, and she wasn’t feeling it. So I put on normal clothes instead and went to Dara’s house. We started at the Marlin, where we found few people and no band. I texted a guy I met on Wednesday, but he said he couldn’t make it that night. The decision was made that we should do things as out-of-the-ordinary as possible, so our next stop was Kodiak Jack’s. After convincing a guy there to buy us drinks, we had almost decided to go all the way to North Pole to go to the Refinery when we instead hit upon the idea of the Silver Spur. Yes, that’s two country bars in one night.

Our arrival at the Spur prompted the immediate departure of one of Dara’s exes and his new wife. Score one for the birthday girl. Now I’ll be damned if I know how to line dance, nor do I really want to try unless I’m going for the kitsch factor, but I met a man named Jeff. Jeff is not datable, but he is danceable. He taught me the two-step, cha cha cha and some basic swing. I am going to go back to that bar in the near future to see if I can find Jeff for some dancing again. Did I ever mention that I love to dance?

When the novelty of being in a country bar wore off, we headed out again. We were on our way to the Loon when we realized we’d have to pay a cover charge, so we went back to the Marlin. Still dead, but I found out that the guy who had said he couldn’t make it had shown up after all. But was gone already. Any sadness about this was soon alleviated by my introduction to another young man. He tried to debate me about the geography of Vietnam and the location of Hanoi therein. I was right, he was wrong.

On Sunday, as if I hadn’t had enough of the bar scene, I went to the Boatel Sleazy Waterfront Bar (the official name) for Alec and Amanda’s going-away party. They are heading to Nepal this week, where Alec is going to climb Everest. I normally don’t go to bars on Sunday afternoons. I know now why. Watching desiccated women down shots at 4 p.m. in the sunshine is about the saddest way to spend a lovely day that I can imagine. I vow to do healthy things this weekend that don’t involve bars. Like watch the end of Battlestar Galactica with my friends.

It's not yet 9 a.m., and someone is already singing the Gilligan's Island theme. Ah, Fridays.

I am going to run the Gold Nugget Triathlon again this year.

There...I said it. Now I have to do it. Crap. Now I have to do it.

I think my friend Liz and my coworker Oralee are both going to do it as well. They will both beat me, but that only means a bigger group to cheer me on at the finish line, right?

I have been going out of my mind with dance for the past few weeks. The troupe agreed to perform a show that, for various reasons, could not include any of our choreography. So we worked our butts off up to 5 days a week to a) learn a new choreography, and b) learn to perform group improvisation. The performance was yesterday, so I think now I'll get a chance to relax.

Enough blogging. I need to get some sleep so I can go run 5K before work tomorrow. Training and all... What am I thinking?

The internet was down at work today. Our tube was broken. Seriously - a DREN fiber optic cable got cut. I spent almost 10 hours without access to e-mail or web. I nearly died. The Borg never had this problem. In the end, I amused myself with iChat, forcing various coworkers to answer trivia questions. My favorite? Who was the 1971 Nobel Poet Laureate? This plan backfired, as people then tried to quiz me back. Mary doesn't like that game. She much prefers the third person and being the only one who knows the answer.

Jenny Schlo has gotten me hooked on Mad Men. It's a great show, if only because the clothing fits my personal aesthetic so well. I wonder - if the show actually aired in the 50s or 60s, would I be supposed to feel sorry for Joan Holloway? I also have to say that they spend just a bit too much time emphasizing the differences between now and then. Yes, smoking everywhere and drinking at work. But the emphasis on drinking while pregnant? The polio vaccine? That's trying a bit too hard. I've got to say, though, that I love the fact that there are almost realistic ideals for women on that show. Christina Hendricks' curves? Stunning. The stripper in episode 1 or 2? Chunky by today's emaciated standards, but still utterly human. I plan on returning the favor by gifting J Schlo with the current seasons of Lost and Big Love next time I see her.

Pardon my French, but it snowed a fucking ton last week. Almost a foot of the fluffy white stuff fell on Thursday alone. Don't get me wrong - I'm glad. These last few winters have been less than snowy, and I didn't move to Alaska for the warm weather. Still, I've got impractical new shoes, and I look forward to the arrival of spring, which should happen sometime in May.

And to complete my post of non sequiturs, I have had several friends trying to set me up lately. Some of them seem to be more of the "well, he's single and you're single, so it's perfect!" variety. I do not approve. Please only set me up with people whom you think are my intellectual match. I get bored otherwise.

At open mic on Wednesday, two men got onstage calling themselves Mr. White and Mr. Right. I couldn't tell you who was who, but I can tell you that they covered a song by The Ink Spots. I can also tell you that I have a great love for the music of the 30s and 40s. By the time they were done, I had developed massive crushes on both of them. I talked to them later, and they both high-fived me and told me I earned major points just for knowing who The Ink Spots were.

It snowed on Friday. I know, news flash! I live in Alaska. But when I left the Marlin, big fat flakes were pouring down from the sky. Big enough and fat enough that I turned my face upward and cried, "It's snowing!" And sure enough, by Saturday morning, several fresh inches of snow coated my world.

The only downside to this was that I had planned to go skiing with Amanda and Marmian on Saturday. Fresh snow is not the greatest thing in the world for cross country skiing. Marmian checked the trails and pronounced them rolled but not set, so we decided to go anyway.

On the bright side it was warm. I mean warm. Like don't wear long johns warm. Take off your gloves warm.




Many skiers before us had broken down the trail. Their tracks always look like maybe - just maybe - they are part of a set trail. Not so much.


But still we persevered, taking in a long loop on the UAF trails.


Forcing other people to take our picture.


Taking our own picture.


In the end, just enjoying a day on the trails together.

I just wandered through Fred Meyer because I needed to get some cream to finish making a cheesecake for the auction tomorrow. Normally, not so newsworthy, right? But I was wearing insulated overalls, a giant purple Cookie Monster fleece and ski boots, since I had just come from a ski with my friends. This is what I love about Fairbanks: I can wander through the grocery store (which essentially serves as the town social center) dressed like that and no one bats an eye. I like it here.

Today I finally emptied a can of air freshener. Why do I deem this ordinary event to be blog-worthy? I bought that can of air freshener at KMart when I moved to Alaska six years ago. This makes me realize that:

a) I've been here for six years!
b) I'm getting old.
c) My roommates were still in high school when I bought that air freshener.

This weekend will be another busy one: a reading tonight, seeing one of Tom's plays tomorrow and hopefully some skiing on Sunday. Sunday is also the Ester Library Lallapalooza. I'm going to be bringing an item for the dessert auction. I put it out for some votes, and it looks like I'll be making Salted Caramel and Pecan Cheesecake. I have a thing for salted caramel lately.

Let's recap. 5K yesterday. 60 minutes of ATS dance yesterday. 60 minutes of hip hop today. 90 minutes of ATS dance today. 120 minutes of tribal fusion dance tomorrow. To say nothing of the 200 or so situps each day. I promise I won't run another 5K in the morning.

I was making plans to go skiing with a friend this weekend when I realized that I have not been skiing yet this year. It's a tragedy. One of my roommates saved my skis during the flood, but it looks as though my ski poles may have floated down the Chena to Nenana. Crap. And Play It Again Sports does not have any ski poles in my size. Double crap. And I refuse to shop at Beaver Sports because of their new towing policy for patrons of the Marlin. Triple crap. I think Tom has my old, a-little-too-short ski poles. Otherwise I'm heading out to Goldstream to search for ski poles. This makes me nervous to look around and try to guess what else might have floated away. I don't remember seeing my snowshoes anywhere recently....

I decided to be all goal-oriented this morning. Instead of running for a certain amount of time, I just decided to do a 5K. I have a feeling I'm going to regret this tomorrow. Everyone says that if you stretch after exercising, you won't be as sore. The problem I run into is that most stretches do nothing for me. It's the curse of being super bendy. I can get something out of my hamstrings, but my quads just yawn no matter what I'm doing.

I went to Joyce's house after work to practice improv. We'll be performing at Fruitcake's wedding in a few weeks, and need to get our improv skills up to speed. If you don't already know, I'm studying American Tribal Style bellydance, which is cued group improvisation. That means that one person leads and gives cues or signals to indicate the next move. When it's done well, it looks like choreography. Ours does not look like choreography, plus there's lots of swearing.

After I got home, I decided to make bread because, well, why not? It was chappati, a kind of Indian flat bread, which should go well with an Indian lentil stew I made on Sunday. Tom and I are trying to share some of our food, since we both cook big batches to eat throughout the week. I get bored eating the same thing all the time, so we are arranging for a little swap tomorrow.

Work is kind of sucky right now. We've got some big stuff coming up which means there is a lot of stuff to be done and not enough people to do it. It's just manageable as it is, but I know that someone will have a last-minute NEED. I don't think I'll be able to do much to help them. Debra and I worked out a good game plan to get everything we need ready in time. There's just not wiggle room to help people who didn't stop to consider that we might be otherwise occupied. Soon the panels will be over and I will be able to focus on the magazine and the web redesign again.

I'm tired and want to watch an episode of Big Love before I go to sleep. I'm happy that modern technology allows me to watch all sorts of TV without actually watching TV. I think if I had cable, I'd end up spending a lot of time just searching for something to watch. Without it, I only seek out things I specifically want to see, like polygamist drama, or post-apocalyptic sci fi, or bizarrely fucked up shows like Lost.

So how do you blog about your dating life when you know some of the people you are dating read your blog? I've been mulling this recently. That is the disadvantage of having a blog - it makes my life an open book.

I don't want to make this blog hidden, as its purpose is to be read by my friends and family (and some strangers). But I also don't want to give anyone any insights into what I think of them. Isn't the point of dating to discover all those things on your own? Sure, I Google stalk my dates to make sure they're not crazy, and I expect many of them to do the same to me. But I would run screaming if someone had me over for dinner and then served me Twinkie sushi for dessert because they saw it on my blog. Somehow I've got to figure out a balance.

In completely unrelated news, I've moved into new baking frontiers. We're talking rolled and cut cookies. I'm more of a drop cookie person (and I lovelovelove my new cookie dough scoop. Yes, you can live without one. But now that I have one, I don't want to.), but I've now rolled dough twice. It's a lot easier to do on a Silpat, though I still have to flour it to keep it from sticking. I may try my hand at some chappati later today.

My baking obsession will only increase because I gave my sister and brother-in-law a year of baked goods for Christmas. To make matter worse, I put a similar offer into a fundraising auction we had at work. Someone paid $180 for 11 months of baked goods. For those keeping track, that means I single-handedly brought in about 15% of the total for the auction. So now I have to bake at least once a month. I don't ever want to bake for a living, but I wish more people would just give me money and let me cook them random things.

On February 13 (several weeks early), Rachel introduced us to Clare Lohr Heilman. We shall continue to call her Jam.
The bow indicates that the baby is a girl. Because, frankly, you really can't tell at this point.

I now present you with baby pictures and video. Lots of it.



In my defense, I'm posting all this baby paraphernalia for the sake of Glenmore, who will meet his daughter in a few weeks. We wanted him to be able to see her ASAP! Good work with the genetics, G!



Had I known the baby was on her way out that morning, I might not have worn a cashmere sweater to work. Thank you, Jam, for not puking on it. Good baby!



Lest you think I have gone soft and changed my stance on babies (good for giving sugary treats, great for giving back to their parents), I offer photographic evidence that I am not afraid to back myself up on Joyce while holding another woman's baby.


And yes, I did get the hair clips from the baby section at Fred Meyer when I was supposed to be picking up little mittens for Jam.

Sickness. It's back. Soon I shall be proclaiming to the world that I am dying. For now, though, I'm just tired and have a Demi Moore voice.

Against my wishes, I will be skipping the gym today in favor of getting to work a bit early and therefore getting out of work a bit early. Last night I went to bed around 8 p.m., thinking that I would wake up extra early. I even ended a chat session to do this. Not so much. I slept until the alarm went off at 6:30. I still haven't mustered the energy to do more than put my contacts in, though. Maybe I'll make a nice, big breakfast and get the latest episode of Big Love downloading before I head off to work.

I'm sure this person didn't mean to describe their rental property as "specious."

I tried for a quiet weekend in. I only partially succeeded. On Friday I had dinner with a few friends, then one friend and I retired to my place to watch a movie and eat cupcakes. Saturday meant Sci Fi Saturday and BSG at Joyce's house. Afterward, I fell prey to the logic of going to the Marlin. In truth, I was hoping to run into a particular person who has a lovely vocabulary, but he was not there. But the band was rocking and I danced with many boys.

I threw a baby shower on Saturday. What? Just because I don't like babies doesn't mean I don't like a party. I attended a baby shower with Dara a few years ago, but it was one of those that was all baby-centric. We guzzled one bottle of champagne and went outside. That was where we found a mom cleaning up the mess from where her baby had shit on the porch. Seriously. On it. We took the other bottle of champagne and went back to the commune to drink alone.

But back to the shower....it was the very best kind of baby shower. It was baby-less (except for the one in Rachel's womb). Georgeanne of Cloud 9 Doula came out and gave us all fantastic henna tattoos.


My new art. I have been contemplating a new tattoo on this part of my body for a while now. I like to get henna as a placeholder to get used to the idea.


Joyce got a back piece done.


As did Jessica L.


Jennie has also been contemplating a tattoo. I think she wants hers on this part of her wrist. Maybe not so much curling down around her finger, though.


Rachel, the baby-momma, got an elaborate hand piece that conveniently kept her from helping with the food. I can't complain too much (too much more than I just did, that is) because she made me a batch of paneer the night before.


Last time we got henna, Georgeanne didn't want to do Liz's face. So after she left, I drank some more and then drew on her face with the extra henna. This time Georgeanne did it, and it looks much better.


As it turns out, we can all work together and make an Indian meal. This is a relief, as I loooove Indian food but don't like having to do all the cooking (and ingredient purchasing) by myself. Ellen has the gift of bread, and tackled the naan, which were fantastic. I made paneer curry, spinach chicken, ginger scallion raita and tamarind peanut chutney. Next time I really need to convince everyone of how easy it is to make the chutney and raita, and then I will only have to do entrees.


Liz chipped in with the dessert, and use my leftover rice to make kheer.

After dinner, we rounded out the baby shower with the presentation of a diaper cake and then all took turns coming up with names for the baby. Just kidding! We watch a Bollywood movie. As is so often the case, Joyce and I opened a bottle of rum at the start of the night and finished it by the end. Sorry, Glenmore! I hear you didn't like that rum anyway.