kimananda (2008) (in press)

Timeline:

Spring, 2006. Write a term paper for a class. Write it quickly, but on a topic close to your heart (in my case, blogging...and tagging...and, well you can read about some of the details here, if you are so inclined). Do pretty well, grade-wise, on the paper, and feel generally quite pleased with yourself.

Autumn, 2006. Take advice to submit the article for publication. Scoff at the advice to submit it to a very very well-known journal in the field, but then submit it anyway. Don't revise it too much before submitting it, because of course it won't be accepted anyway. View it as a way to experience the peer review process.

Spring, 2007. Hear that your article has been accepted. Spend at least an evening rejoicing. Then read the peer reviewers' suggestions for revisions.

Summer, 2007. Spend far too long revising, and/or putting off revising. Despair at ever being done. Fail to understand what can be done to address the reviewers' very reasonable suggestions. Talk to all your friends about it. Send out e-mails for help (which go unanswered). Pull your hair out (metaphorically), and complain to your blog readers. Then, finish the revisions and submit them.

Still Summer, 2007. Find out that your revisions have been accepted. Rejoice, but not in the same exuberant way as for the original acceptance.

Autumn, 2007. After a few last-minute questions, find out that your part is done, the editor's part is done, and the publisher will be in touch to let you know when you'll actually be published.

Winter, 2007/8. Decide that you'll never hear anything, and that you'll never be published. By this point, the article is so old, and your interests have moved on, so you're not too worried. You can put the acceptance on your applications anyway.

Spring, 2008. Find out that you will be published, and when you will be published. Rejoice, and consider that you have only a vague idea at this point of what you actually wrote to begin with!

Summer, 2008. When you will become a published author. Risk being late for work in order to blog announce it. Yay!

What's more scary?

I used to think that giving birth was the scariest part of pregnancy. But now, I've read about it, and heard about it, and it doesn't seem as scary (which is not to say that it isn't scary, just not as scary).

What is scary now is what if I'm really, really overdue, and end up walking around the size of a small continent for weeks after I should reasonably expect to already have a baby. But my other fear is that she'll arrive really early. I have far too much (non-baby related) that I want and need to do before.

I really can't decide which of these scenarios is scarier. Of course, the scariest is probably that I once again have nothing that I want to blog about which is not baby related. But then again, I did just come home from a childhood preparation course, so I suppose it makes sense.

Time to turn off the lights

This was first brought to my attention a month ago, and amazingly enough, I was actually reminded of it today. It will be interesting to see if enough turn off their lights tonight, from 8 til 9, to make a difference for anyone looking out the window. I suspect that in my little suburb, we'll be alone in having a candle-lit apartment. But I hope I'm wrong. You can find out more at http://www.earthhour.org/.

I only have a small handful of you who actually read this blog, but are any of you doing this? I'd appreciate knowing how it went in your area. The buzz in my household is a recent newspaper article, the idea of which is that the candles everyone will be using will give off more CO2 than that saved by not using electric lights, but I'm going for the symbolism of the relative darkness anyway, and will hold firm that we'll try it out here.

There might be hope for me yet

I vaguely recall, a number of posts ago, claiming that I would not become a mommy blogger. Now, 25 or so posts tagged with 'babystuff' later, I admit it. I'm obsessed. More than obsessed. So, when given the challenge to not speak about, well, babystuff, for a whole multi-course meal (Thor's birthday dinner...I took him out for Australian), I wasn't sure it could be done.

But, I did it. It wasn't easy, whenever it was my turn to speak, I felt the urge to bring up something kiddie-related. Not that I had anything particularly kiddie-related to say, mind you. But I resisted. We talked about political and social issues, movies, music, travel, just like real people do. I was quite impressed with myself.

And then I came home and immediately logged onto a pregnancy forum, like an asthmatic in need of an inhaler. I'm much better now, thank you.

39x365 #19: Abby

I said something which offended you, though it was not intentional. You actively stopped speaking to me. As I worked with you everyday, and was in the same social circle as you, I found this silent treatment rather traumatic.

A happy birthday post

So, what do you do to honor the birthday of a man who eschews carbs? Why, you assemble a salami and cheese 'cake' selection, of course! Now join me in a round of a Danish birthday song (there are several, but this seems to be the most common) in Thor's honor. What, pray tell, is this song? Well, you can find the words (and English translation) of the first verse (once again, there are several) here, and the tune here.

The value of money

So, now, thanks to this podcast, I now understand why I, generally not a big spender, am so willing to fork out big money on baby things. Because it makes me happy. Yes, apparently, money can't buy happiness...unless it's money spent on someone else.

And it's true...I find myself gazing upon all my purchases, organizing them neatly in various places in the apartment, with what can only be described as joy. Yes, this is about nesting more than anything, but if I hadn't spent the money on someone else, then I wouldn't have any nesting material, now would I? It will be even more exciting to see the items actually being used.

*Photo: Not having any photos of anything that I've bought for the baby, I'm revisiting her clothing collection. Everything in this photo was a gift from some person or group of people. Who are all presumably happier as a result of their baby clothing purchases.*

39x365 #18: Mickey Mouse

Though I don’t remember it personally, I apparently was toilet trained in exchange for a trip to Disneyland. To meet you. Except that I was too awe-struck to actually approach you. I still think you’re cool, but Minnie’s cooler.

Happy Easter!

On the one hand, it's a very very grim reason to have a holiday, the whole crucifixion thing. On the other hand, what better than a holiday based on being reborn. A day to think of all the ways in which we all have been reborn, or all the ways in which we would like to reinvent ourselves. Really a day of hope. So, what will be your next rebirthing? Mine is so obvious that I can't even bring myself to write it down.

*Photo from http://www.eat-online.net/english/habits/easter/eggs_made_paper.htm*

Boring Easter weekend

So far this weekend, I have done the following things. Your challenge is to make them connect to Easter in some way.

I've gotten about 28% of the way through a large proofreading project. The project itself is fairly straightforward; however, proofreading always makes me feel as if my eyes are bleeding. I have great hopes to have it finished by Monday evening, but I'm not so sure I can do it. Because of the bleeding.

I've bought a lot of diaper items. Cloth diapers. And diaper inserts. And diaper pants. And diaper wipes. And diaper creme. Oh, and disposable diaper liners. I've put those items that need to be washed before use through the washer (twice, actually), and they are now hanging to dry across from where I now sit. I also demonstrated to Thor how to diaper a baby, using a stuffed animal as the baby.

I've done only a bit of cooking, and even less cleaning.

I've chatted, blogged, and hung out a very short time on Facebook.

And I've uploaded an Easter appropriate photo of a church, on Møn.

Now, it's your turn. What have you done so far this fine weekend? What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?

My other internet 'homes'

I spend a lot more time on-line than is good for the rest of the things I need to do in life. And only a bit of that time is spent blogging. So, where am I for the rest? Here are some of the places where I am most often to be found. Some of these I have written about before, but they are still where I hang out, and so worthy of being written about again.

1) Conceptis Puzzles: seriously, if I could break this habit, I'd have hours more each week. In fact the only thing that takes up more of my on-line time is...

2) What to Expect forums: and I don't even post there (I keep meaning to, but haven't done it yet). It's uncanny, whenever I have a concern or question, 99% of the time, someone has just posted about it, or will post about within a day or two.

3) The Archers message board: as I know I've mentioned earlier, I don't really even listen to it anymore! But I still read the synopses and check the boards. Strange, I know. And I have no interest in posting here.

4) Obsessively checking my e-mail: because you never know when spam will attack, and your e-mail account will need protecting...

5) And of course, other blogs: but not as much as I'd like to. Give me some way of getting rid of my need for #1 and 3, and I'd be by much more often!

So, what about for you? What takes up time that you could usefully spend on other things?

39x365 #17: Auntie Mary Ann

A worthy recipient of honorary 'auntie' status. Your trademark? Wonderful Christmas and birthday presents sent 3 months late, so never expected, but much appreciated. You were a delivery room nurse at my birth, though I don’t recall that personally.

The value of snoring?

It's funny what strange words one can pick up when in a foreign country for only a short time. In Thor's case, it's so clear that he learned what few Spanish words he knows from doing the Camino de Santiago. He is able to order breakfast ('bocadillo con chorizo y queso', 'cafe con leche) and a drink in a bar ('cerveza', 'vino tinto'). At one point, someone taught him to say something along the lines of 'this village is the most beautiful I've seen on the Camino', which apparently got him a lot of kudos and the occasional free drink, but I'd imagine he's since forgotten that phrase. And I thought that was it. But not quite, shown by his now addressing me in the morning as 'roncadora'. Only someone spending night after night in refugios would pick up the term for snorers (as there were a lot of them in the refugios!)

Yes, apparently I've started to snore. Which is not the end of the world, after all most people do so in certain situations (like when they have a cold). But it's gotten me wondering, why would humans have this snoring tendency? From an evolutionary perspective, it would seem to be a really bad idea to draw attention to ourselves when we're sleeping, and therefore can't defend ourselves from attack.

It's possible that snoring is a recent phenomenon in history (which could be if there is a connection between physical condition and snoring...maybe in ancient times, snoring wasn't as common because people weren't so out of shape and overweight). It's also possible that we snore less than our ancient ancestors, because evolution favored those who didn't snore as often, but that snoring a bit still remains.

Looking it up hasn't helped much (Googling 'snoring evolution' gives articles on the evolution of snoring in individual cases, such as from light snoring to heavy snoring to sleep apnea to impending doom, and 'why do we snore' provides discussions on the biology of snoring), and now I'm really curious to know why we humans snore. I did find one theory that humans evolved to snore in order to scare off wild animals, but I'm not convinced. Another theory says that it has to do with sleep/wake patterns in group hunting animals, and snoring being a signal for sleep, which is somewhat more logical...but if everyone is sleeping at the same time, how would anyone snoring first help? Wouldn't it be enough just to see some starting to sleep?

So, I leave it now up to you, dear readers. Let your imagination, and/or your mad researching skillz, run riot. What is your theory on the evolutionary advantage of snoring? In the meantime, I'll be heading for bed, to hone my new-found prowess as a roncadora.

Just a bit (of) Kinky

I was halfway to the grocery store when it started to rain. I never run when it starts raining. I just keep to my same leisurely pace and try to walk between the drops. You get about equally wet either way, but if you run, you look stupid. If you walk you just look crazy. There's more dignity in crazy, and it's also less strenuous. (Kinky Friedman, "A Case of Lone Star")

I'm not usually one to write down a quote or a line. I'm actually the type to be sure that I'll remember whatever it is later when I need it, and then forget about whatever it was mere seconds after. But when going through a stack of (in some cases, very old) papers, I found this quote, which I had written on the back of a receipt (from somewhere in Portugal, which means the quote writing was done pre-2001).

I don't remember anything about the novel (except that Kinky is marvelously funny, and witty, and punny), nor do I remember what inspired me to find the book (in a bookstore in San Francisco), find the quote in the book (which I seem to recall I found surprisingly quickly), and write it down. But it ages well, the quote. It seems like it could apply to just about any uncomfortable situation, not just rain, and it's an image and an idea that I've been trying more consciously since re-reading it, that of walking between the drops. It does just seem to epitomize the dignified approach.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day?

If it is actually Saint Patrick's Day today, then I wish you a good one. But is it today? Or was it Saturday? If it was Saturday, then I wish you belated holiday well wishes. May you have a nice drink and wear something green.

For me, on my Saint Patrick's Day (or belated Saint Patrick's Day, whichever), I will try to sleep, in hopes that when I wake up, I won't feel so punished for breaking one of the cardinal rules of pregnancy, namely that enormously pregnant women should not put together Ikea furniture. Which is a very unfair rule, as I need that bookshelf/changing table ready so that I can put baby clothes and pregnancy and baby books on it. How can I really, truly start nesting without it? But I realize now that some rules exist for a reason, namely to prevent total physical exhaustion. Not to mention the depression that accompanies the realization that assembling a bookshelf is now to be considered strenuous exercise. My plan was to take a photo of it, but that may have to wait until I have the strength to pick up my camera. Or for that matter, to put in the actual shelves.

Blogging about my feet while I can still see them

I had lots of ideas on how to start this post. All of which were wiped away when I saw this photo, of me looking at my feet in Barcelona airport. It has to be the scariest photo I have ever seen. Certainly the scariest one I've ever taken. And yes, that is my belly. And my feet. And, to answer the question I know you'll have, yes, I did have to lean over slightly in order to actually get my feet in the shot.

The funniest thing is that this was to be a post about my cool new shoes. Along with lots of lovely tourism, one notable event from my week in Barcelona was that I became noticeably bigger during the week, from Tuesday to Thursday. This has apparently pushed me over some mythical edge, and given me a slightly different relationship with my feet. Actually, with anything on the ground, like, for example, my feet when I am standing up. Leaning over is no longer my friend. Now, when I drop something, I'll be doing my best to just leave it where it is (or to get some nice person nearby to pick it up for me).

Which means that it was possibly not the best idea to take only lace-up shoes with me. Which I did. Lace-up shoes which finally started to fall apart on Thursday, in a way which was quite painful (imagine walking on a bar of metal, digging into your already sore left foot more and more with each step, and you'll have an idea of what I mean). So Friday became shoe-shopping day. And did I ever find cool shoes. You can't see much of them here (I couldn't lean over any more and still have only bump and shoes in the photo), but they're leather high tops with several buckled strips of spikes and stuff. Not laced, but a zip up the side, which is not ideal either, but much better than lacing.

But really, it's the bump that really wants to be written about. Not the shoes, not even that they're a larger size than I normally take because I believe my feet have finally started swelling. Or that they are possibly the most expensive shoes I have ever bought. It's only slightly more relevant to write about how I had to take them off after security in Zurich, and then, not having anywhere to sit down (we just made it to our connection as it was), was unable to put them back on, and so just carried them onto the next flight. Or how I attempted to put them on before the plane landed in Copenhagen, and couldn't maneuver enough, what with the lack of room between me and the seat in front of me, to actually put them on there either.

Nope, it's all about how scary it is that my abdominal region has morphed, seemingly overnight into some sort of county fair prize-winning watermelon. Compared to that, there is nothing else to write about. Even scarier when I consider that there are still about 8 weeks left in which to grow even more alarmingly big.

39x365 #16: Waiter in that cafe in Lisbon

I became a ‘local’ in your café. Then, you started another café nearby. Peering in months later, you invited me in and gave me my usual order. Which had since changed. I could never bring myself to tell you.

39x365 #15: Silvia

I was dead impressed with your fluency, but found your Spanish-accented Danish almost impossible to understand. Paired for a Danish speaking exam, I amazingly could understand you, whereas you were surprised to find I could speak Danish at all.

Nothing to declare...

...but my total blogging addiction. I managed to miss getting to my new 'usual' internet cafe until after it was already closed. So, does that mean that I'm missing a day? Nope, just that I'm at another cafe, one that has an even stickier keyboard than at my regular (so, any letters missing should be seen as just part of the charm). I'm hardly even checking my e-mail, no time to answer comments (I look forward to responding to all posts when I get back), but must...write...blog... post. Really, it's more than a bit pathetic.

It sort of makes me wonder what other good habits I could get into if only I force myself to follow them everyday. Taking vitamins? (Though I am not so regular at doing that, actually). Exercising? (Maybe later...I managed a 50-minute very light hike today, felt really well afterwards, but now suspect that I'll need the rest of this trip, and another week or so at home to recover). Maybe, just maybe, it will all be clearer after a good sleep. Any suggestions you can make, to await me when I am back in my usual cafe with familiar sticky keys, will be greatly appreciated.

How to lose the ability to speak in any language

Here's the secret. First, learn a foreign language. Any foreign language will do, especially one which can be sort of used in other places (so Danish is good, because it sort of works also in Norway and Sweden). In my case, I learned Portuguese, and had several opportunities to sort of use it in Spain (I've been told that it also sort of works in Italy, but I haven't had as much luck with that one).

Once you've become pretty good in the first one, then learn another foreign language. Preferably one that is really different than the first foreign language. I chose Danish, which is still Indo-European, but different enough. Learn that one enough so that you start to forget the first one.

Finally, travel with people speaking the second foreign language, to a country where you could sort of use the first foreign language, if only you could remember it well enough. Then decide you are too stubborn to use your native language (even if, as in my case, your native language is the one language that people are sure to sort of know pretty much wherever you are).

And then try and speak, and see if I am not right in saying that all communication will, practically speaking, cease. Really, it works. In my case, I can no longer speak anything at all. I stop a conversation (in Danish) to order food, or to buy something, and I end up speaking Danish to servers and clerks. Which really isn't very effective.

Am I right in assuming that this is some sort of foreign language universal?

Where I reveal that my boyfriend is obsessed with another woman

Dear Reader,

I am writing to ask for the use of your wisdom and experience. I have known for a few months now that I am no longer the only woman in my boyfriend's life. But it is only now that we're on holiday (which entails spending much longer periods of time together than usual) that the full extent of this other relationship has revealed itself. Consider the following behaviors that I have noticed over the past several days between my boyfriend and this 'other woman' (who, I might note, is traveling with us):

He simply cannot keep his hands off of her. On occasion, in response to this, she'll actually kick him (or hit him - it's hard to be sure). He doesn't seem to mind.

He kisses her regularly. In public. In front of me (of course, he also kisses me in front of her, but that's perhaps better left for another letter). As far as I can tell, she doesn't kiss back. Her lack of affection doesn't seem to faze him.

When confronted with these facts, he doesn't even try to deny anything. In fact, he suggests that he will only really get to know her in May. At which point, he's apparently planning to take her home to live with us. As if that weren't enough, I believe I'm expected to feed her and make sure all her needs are met while he's at work.

So, dearest reader, what should I do? Is it wrong to just give in, to embrace this new relationship? Dare I even enter into a relationship with her myself? Because truth be told, this other woman is kind of cute, and totally captivating.

39x365 #14: Pedro

My companion last time to Barcelona. Too macho to accept my paying (even though you were on my holiday), no money to pay yourself, making every restaurant meal into a fight. Why we even attempted a relationship escapes me.

Dirty on the outside, clean on the inside?

When I used to live in Lisbon, I would marvel at my colleagues (mostly British), who would remark on how dirty the city was, and how cramped, and how generally inhospitable. I didn't agree...but when I'd go somewhere else, back to the States, for example, I'd find that for the first day or two after my return, I'd notice all of that...especially the dirt. As if the whole city, every building, could stand a minor sandblasting, just to clean it up.

I'm feeling the same way now about Barcelona, and I must confess, I adore it. It makes me feel at home. It also reminds me of a factoid I once heard (I'm sure if I had more internet time, I could find a reference or two to link to) about outside cultures and inside cultures. According to this theory, Portugal, and Spain, and of course there are others, are more concerned about appearances inside the circle of friends and family. What this means is that it's not so important how dirty things are in public spaces, but if you go into someone's house, you can expect immaculate, you can eat off the floor, levels of cleanliness. By contrast, in an outside culture (I believe the example I heard was Germany), it's very important to present a good appearance, so public spaces are very very clean, but inside homes, it's not such a big deal. I can only vouch for my one German roommate, who definitely only cleaned for company, but beyond that, couldn't really say.

What I have grown to realize is that I like the dirty on the outside way of doing things. I'm fond of dilapidation. It looks like somewhere where people actually live. Maybe it's because I fit into a totally separate criteria, that of the not too fussed about cleaning either outside or inside.

I'd welcome other opinions on this. Any thoughts? Anyone?

Testing the theory that air travel is safe in the third trimester

Yes, this is where I see how much stamina I have left (if any), and spend a week in Barcelona with Thor and Thor's dad (and Thor's dad's lady friend). In theory, there should be no problem with this. I am feeling fine, no complications that I know of, I'm not even that fatigued, baby not expected for another two months or so. About the most I can complain about is heartburn, which will presumably be the same no matter where I am. And I'm hoping my memories of Amsterdam a couple weekends ago (where I attempted to walk around to the extent that I always do when in a different city...and it was absolutely no fun, I had back pain that shifted to hip pain, then radiating leg pain, ending up in foot pain, nothing too severe, but in no way pleasant) will be enough to make me take it easy this time.

What's really sad is that the one thing I am worried about is whether I'll be able to blog everyday. That Blog365 thing really is an addiction. And unlike when I go for weekend trips, I have not written posts in advance for each day. I'd imagine I will be here as always (though more likely in the morning than in the night as is my usual), but if not, know that I miss each and every one, even those who don't read my blog.

*This is a companion photo to the one in the last post. That one is titled 'Bike with cat', and this one is 'Cat with bike'.*

kimananda, television star

Last weekend, Thor and I went to the opening of a new small hotel/pension on the island of Møn, owned by one of Thor's co-workers and her husband. They recently bought the place, and have re-done it. Each of the rooms in the place has been stunningly decorated by a different local artist (the owners are also artists, who themselves have decorated the common areas). Lots of photos were taken, and at some point soon, there will be a post all about it.

But in the meantime, it has been brought to my attention that that man we saw there wandering around with the video equipment and tripod was not just playing around. Apparently, he has started and runs a local television station (or video-based website, I'm not sure), and was covering the opening 'for the media'. Which means that all the guests, including Thor and me, are television stars. Sort of.

The story itself has everything there is to love about local t.v. The total lack of polish, the odd placing of shots, weird camera angles, an announcer with a non-distinctive voiceover voice, a clearly amateur script. Which is what makes it so watchable. Thor and I can be seen in the crowd watching the owners' inagural speech (where you can see them officially christen the pension with white paint). To help you find us, I'm the pregnant woman having a really bad hair day. Thor is the suave man in the matching jacket standing next to me. Along the way, you'll get a good view of the place, and can soak in the strangeness that is the Danish language.

The link is http://tv-moen.dk/bakkegaardindvielsen.wmv. To any Mac users, do yourself a favor, and don't try to open it in Safari (trust me, it's really not worth the effort). It worked fine in Firefox.

39x365 #13: Miguel

On your second Camino de Santiago, with definite ideas of how it ‘should’ be done.. Slightly dogmatic, but possessing occasional wisdom. I felt in need of your advice after finishing the journey, but you were nowhere to be found.

What to write about writing?

I'm accepting Devil Mood's challenge, to present 3 writing tips. At the moment, I'm finding it relatively hard to write, which makes me an expert on giving tips, I'd imagine (sort of on the 'those who can't do, teach' principle).

1) Write regularly, even when you don't have anything to say. Which explains my whole blog at the moment, now that I think about it. A corollary to this is to also write when you have something to say, which seems like common sense, but seems to be, for me at least, the times in which it's hardest to write.

2) On the other hand, don't just write. Go out and experience things which you can then write about (or experience things while writing about them, or just while writing). Travel, develop interests and hobbies, immerse yourself in life, work on projects (or just work).

3) You will always be your own best reader. You know exactly what you mean by what you write. You can see what's worked and what hasn't. You find your humor funny, and your sadness tragic. Anything outside of yourself is welcome in addition to that, but your main drive should be you...otherwise, it's far too easy to get demotivated, as outside readers are fickle, and often very very busy.

Really, basic common sense (and very overlapping with Ms. Mood's list...which is not something that was planned). If you have any ideas to add, please do. If you have 3 ideas or more, consider yourself tagged.

*Photo info: This is from an artist decorated small hotel far far away, which will get it's very own post sometime soon.*

What I would write about if I could remember what to write about

I have ideas for posts, on trips (to Vienna, Amsterdam, Møn), ideas for astrology experiments, food posts, social web pondering. But everytime I start to do anything, I then find that I've forgotten what it was that I was going to do. Not just blogging, but really, anything. All day this has been happening. Not that I wasn't absent-minded before, but never like this.

What would anyone suggest I do? Apparently, it's a normal thing, a sign that my brain is shrinking (no really, it is, though it should unshrink in, oh, around September or so, from what I can work out from various websites). As it is, I can't seem to work out how to make dinner (though the thought of heartburn is enough to put me off dinner at the moment), how to get the work done that needs to be done this evening, planning for my lessons tomorrow. So, for want of a better solution, I choose going to bed and sleeping deeply. Let's hope it's all a bit more manageable tomorrow (it should be...all things seem better in the morning, I find).

Natural history of a craving

First, I had just an idea, not more than that, purely conceptual, that some sort of dessert might be nice. I let this thought lie in the back of my mind. Knowing that there is in fact no dessert in the house made it easier to distance myself from actually trying to make something dessert-like for myself.

Then, I saw the last photo in this post. Please note Chloe's willpower, in not having even a single bite. The photo had the opposite effect on me. My idea became a full-blown craving, leaving me with no choice but to find myself something, anything, to satisfy my need.

I found milk, and cocoa powder, and am in the middle of savoring the resulting chocolate milk. It's actually quite good...but not quite what I had in mind when I first worked this idea into a craving.

As I drink, I find myself thinking of other famous blog desserts. Like this one. A dessert classic. Or how about this one? It's one of my favorites. It reminds me of my mom's treasured recipe for flowerpot, which is basically an Oreo cookie/whipped cream concoction that looks like potting soil, presented in a, yes, flowerpot, with a real flower or two sticking out the top, to give it that authentic plant look. Yep, that cake is just like flowerpot, only much, much more disgusting looking. Or of course, that other begetter of cravings, here. Actually it is for this post that I now have the cocoa, bought in order to recreate the peanut butter hot chocolate. So, thank you, Novel Nymph. Without you, all I'd have to satisfy my cravings would be...ordinary milk. Which would really be quite sad, and probably not very effective.

The last time there was dessert in the house was the weekend before last. A bit of Valrhona, shown in the photo. It was not gotten in response to any craving. I just have a boyfriend who occasionally gets me chocolate (proof, as if any were needed, that he's a keeper...of course the fact that I keep reminding him of this study might help my case a bit). It lasted 3 or 4 days, which is pretty good for me. Actually, that last layer lasted just long enough for me to take a photo of it.

Short-timer's disease

Yes, I am suffering from it. Which means that it's going to be a long six weeks until I go on leave. In the meantime, I've been making a list of what to do with the time I have between when I stop work, and when I become a parent. Here are some highlights:

1) go to a spa for a couple of days (this is the one I dream of most, and I hope I can do it)
2) clean the house really well and
3) get rid of all unnecessary items so that I can
4) turn a corner of one room into a nursery (we don't have a whole room for this, just a corner)
5) blog, maybe even write longer posts
6) make a month (or two) of frozen meals
7) buy any remaining baby items, and talk myself out of buying too many
8) write e-mails to everyone I haven't written to in a while (so, to pretty much everyone)
9) exercise a bit (nothing too strenuous, some of my pregnancy yoga)
10) work on my proposal some more

Am I missing anything?

(Actually, after looking at this list, work doesn't seem so bad after all! No, just kidding...I'd much rather do these things than go to work at this point. Which is odd, as I really like my teaching at the moment, and some of the stuff I like less will be handed over to my replacement very soon.)

Speaking of overachieving

One plus of blogging everyday for that part of me that pays attention to statistics, is that yesterday was not just weekiversary and leap day. It was also the day in which I have blogged more in 2008 than in all of 2007. I honestly can't decide if that's a good thing or not.

Or, to put it in a different way, is it just quantity, or is there any quality there? I really can't decide that either. I find that the whole reason for this blog, and the satisfaction that I get from blogging, has changed utterly. To what, I'm not quite sure I've figured it out.

Questions being considered are, while I'm clearly writing with the idea that what I write will be read by others, am I really writing for others, or just myself? Is this an exercise in meeting a daily deadline, or is there more going on? Am I trying to express thought or intuition or art...or something else entirely...or nothing? And to go back to quantity vs. quality, is one so much better than the other? I ask this in the spirit of 'the best way to get a good idea is to have lots of ideas'. Which of course begs the question, is it the blogger's job to separate beautiful well-formed posts from all the rest? Or is it up to the blogger just to get the ideas out there, and the reader's job to see if anything said happens for whatever reason to resonate?

This seems like something that is better pondered earlier in the day, something to return to later. But until I do, any thoughts and/or answers to rhetorical questions are greatly appreciated.