Bears Fans Show Their Class
Midwestern hospitality?
An example of one comment on the Chicago Tribune blog: "I know the owner of the Saints and they plan to issuing a formal complaint with the NFL over the treatment of our fans. Witnessed not just one sign but, fans were denied access to vending/bathrooms, had beer poured on them, had to defend themselves when attacked, were told they should have died from Katrina, etc... We had 11,000 people go to Chicago (which means major income into your city) and I can not find one person who did not have something negative happen to them at the game. This isn't about being a crybaby or not having tough skin... it's about a common respect for a community that has had it's fair share of disaster and pain. To flaunt that by hurling insult about something that cost lives is horrid. NOLA never asked to be "America's Team" but it was a grand bright spot in our stressed out world here. We have all been so spread out it made us feel for one moment "whole again." There is a drain on the citizens of the Gulf Coast from FLA, MS to LA... it is so very difficult to deal with and economy that is doing a balancing act & watch your close friends move away, and still staying to FIGHT for what is really important.. YOUR HOME! "
Wednesday
Thursday
Ice! Winter! Chaos!
Texans on ice crack me up. So much panic over a little precipitation. Although I do recognize the dangers. Living in the Midwest for a couple of years taught me to appreciate snow plows, salt, and people who know how to drive during icy conditions. Texas doesn't have any of those three. Perhaps we have plows, actually. I'm not sure.
We had an unofficial snow day yesterday. Originally we were supposed to delay opening until 10 but when I walked outside around 9 or so, it was sleeting. Sleet on top of another layer of ice and snow? Eh, not so much. Out of of an office of approximately 20 or so folks, four went into work. I was not one of those four. I walked outside again around noon and it was still sleeting. So I checked my e-mail periodically, told the four I could edit/proof/whatever documents needed to be read via e-mail or fax, and then set about to cleaning out my old office (soon to be nursery).
Nate was also home because a pipe burst in his building and they had no heat. So he helped me move furniture, organize my new office space, and gave me moral support as I went through huge mounds of paper I've been needing to file or trash for about six months. But that's all done now!
I estimate I have about an hour or so of additional organizing and cleaning. Nate's been trying to get me out of there for a few weeks now, so he'll be happy. He wants to paint the ceiling and then he and his mom are going to paint an underwater seascape (the nursery theme), which I think should be pretty cool.
You can see some pics of the icy arctic blast (how the TV weather peeps were referring to winter) here.
Texans on ice crack me up. So much panic over a little precipitation. Although I do recognize the dangers. Living in the Midwest for a couple of years taught me to appreciate snow plows, salt, and people who know how to drive during icy conditions. Texas doesn't have any of those three. Perhaps we have plows, actually. I'm not sure.
We had an unofficial snow day yesterday. Originally we were supposed to delay opening until 10 but when I walked outside around 9 or so, it was sleeting. Sleet on top of another layer of ice and snow? Eh, not so much. Out of of an office of approximately 20 or so folks, four went into work. I was not one of those four. I walked outside again around noon and it was still sleeting. So I checked my e-mail periodically, told the four I could edit/proof/whatever documents needed to be read via e-mail or fax, and then set about to cleaning out my old office (soon to be nursery).
Nate was also home because a pipe burst in his building and they had no heat. So he helped me move furniture, organize my new office space, and gave me moral support as I went through huge mounds of paper I've been needing to file or trash for about six months. But that's all done now!
I estimate I have about an hour or so of additional organizing and cleaning. Nate's been trying to get me out of there for a few weeks now, so he'll be happy. He wants to paint the ceiling and then he and his mom are going to paint an underwater seascape (the nursery theme), which I think should be pretty cool.
You can see some pics of the icy arctic blast (how the TV weather peeps were referring to winter) here.
Friday
I Blame My Grandmother
My favorite Mexican songs are the ones where people are crying into their cervezas or tequila, either lamenting their lost love or cursing them or lying about how they never loved them anyway. I think my unhealthy fascination with these songs has to do with my grandmother taking care of me for the first several months of my life. She listened to Mexican radio stations all the time and warped me at an early age.
While Nate and I were in Mexico in September, we were in a bar playing pool and drinking beer and tequila. We started having a very intense conversation about marriage, fidelity, vows, attraction, and other heavy topics. I was tipsy and I started crying. Not out of sadness, exactly, it was more the intensity of feeling. We were talking about our bond, how to protect it, what happens when people stop taking care with their word, and all kinds of other things. Nate got worried because I was crying (of course I did not stop drinking). I told him really, it was nothing. This was just a Mexican thing to do, to sit in a bar crying over my beer and tequila and lamenting love. We walked out of the bar, I bought some tacos from a street vendor and chowed down, and I was in a fine mood the rest of the night. At first he was confused and then he had an epiphany about me and completely understood what I’d meant. I'm Mexican and my behavior was perfectly normal.
I had one of those epiphanies with Nate once in Chicago. We woke up one weekend morning and decided to go get breakfast. We ended up in a German restaurant where a live German band was playing. I was in the mood for coffee and eggs. Nate ordered schnitzel and an enormous stein of beer. It was probably 10 a.m. At one point, I stared at him as he moved his head to the oompa music and raised his beer and I realized: he is with his people. I feel like I had a better understanding of my husband after that. And after I cried in a bar in Mexico, I felt like Nate understood me better.
So, back to my unhealthy obsession. I’ve been listening to Lila Downs’ version of Jose Alfredo’s Jimenez’s song over and over again today.
Pa Todo El Ano
Por tu amor que tanto quiero
Y tanto extraño,
Que me sirvan otra copa y muchas más
Que me sirvan de una vez pa' todo el año
Que me pienso seriamente emborrachar.
My favorite Mexican songs are the ones where people are crying into their cervezas or tequila, either lamenting their lost love or cursing them or lying about how they never loved them anyway. I think my unhealthy fascination with these songs has to do with my grandmother taking care of me for the first several months of my life. She listened to Mexican radio stations all the time and warped me at an early age.
While Nate and I were in Mexico in September, we were in a bar playing pool and drinking beer and tequila. We started having a very intense conversation about marriage, fidelity, vows, attraction, and other heavy topics. I was tipsy and I started crying. Not out of sadness, exactly, it was more the intensity of feeling. We were talking about our bond, how to protect it, what happens when people stop taking care with their word, and all kinds of other things. Nate got worried because I was crying (of course I did not stop drinking). I told him really, it was nothing. This was just a Mexican thing to do, to sit in a bar crying over my beer and tequila and lamenting love. We walked out of the bar, I bought some tacos from a street vendor and chowed down, and I was in a fine mood the rest of the night. At first he was confused and then he had an epiphany about me and completely understood what I’d meant. I'm Mexican and my behavior was perfectly normal.
I had one of those epiphanies with Nate once in Chicago. We woke up one weekend morning and decided to go get breakfast. We ended up in a German restaurant where a live German band was playing. I was in the mood for coffee and eggs. Nate ordered schnitzel and an enormous stein of beer. It was probably 10 a.m. At one point, I stared at him as he moved his head to the oompa music and raised his beer and I realized: he is with his people. I feel like I had a better understanding of my husband after that. And after I cried in a bar in Mexico, I felt like Nate understood me better.
So, back to my unhealthy obsession. I’ve been listening to Lila Downs’ version of Jose Alfredo’s Jimenez’s song over and over again today.
Pa Todo El Ano
Por tu amor que tanto quiero
Y tanto extraño,
Que me sirvan otra copa y muchas más
Que me sirvan de una vez pa' todo el año
Que me pienso seriamente emborrachar.
Si te cuentan que me vieron muy borracho
Orgullosamente diles que es por ti,
Porque yo tendré el valor de no negarlo,
Gritaré que por tu amor me estoy matando
Y sabrán que por tus besos me perdí
Para de hoy en adelante
Ya el amor no me interesa,
Cantaré por todo el mundo
Mi dolor y mi tristeza,
Porque sé que de este golpe
Ya no voy a levantarme
Y aunque yo no lo quisiera
Voy a morirme de amor.
Any song that says:
For your love that I love
and miss so much
Serve me another cup and many more
May as well serve me now for the rest of the year
Because I plan to get seriously drunk.
If they tell you they saw me very drunk
Tell them proudly it's because of you
Because I'll have the nerve not to deny it
I'll yell that I'm killing myself for your love
And they'll know I lost myself over your kisses.
From this day forward
Love no longer interests me
I'll sing throughout the world
My pain and my sadness
Because I know after this blow
I'm not going to be able to get up
And even though I didn't want to
I'm going to die of love.
That's a rough translation but come on. Do you even question why I cry when I was warped as a child by songs like these?
Thursday
This Week in Pregnancy
Cravings
Normally I'm not much for sweets. And I stopped adding sugar to my tea or coffee back in 2000 or so. So my most unusual "craving" has been my desire for sugar. Twice this week I've added sugar to my coffee. Twice I've craved chocolate cake specifically. This is odd because I'm not much of a chocolate person. When I've wanted cake in the past, I usually wanted Italian creme, carrot, or maybe cheese cake. Also, I don't drink regular coke. But I've had some this week and just wanted that sugar syrupy taste. This is weird to me because I normally find all of these things too sweet. I guess this is fairly common, though. I've been trying to buy more fruit to see if eating more natural sugar will help. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with indulging every once in awhile, but the cravings were so fierce they kind of freaked me out, especially since I don't even like sugar that much.
Belly
Between Christmas and New Year's, my belly finally started popping out. Before I don't think I really looked pregnant. One day I was thinking, I just look like I'm gaining weight. Literally the next day after my morning shower I saw myself in the mirror and said, Holy Crap, Batman. I look like I'm having a baby.
Clothes
Due to my pooching belly, I've retired more clothes. I went to a maternity store to get a few things and found several shirts and a few pairs of pants. While I was shopping, I heard a man talking to a sales woman. His wife, he explained, was 8 months pregnant and she needed some new clothes because her old ones were too tight. But he didn't know her size. So the sales women started trying to help him. "About how tall is she? How much do you think she weighs?" He was having a hard time with all of the questions. Finally he said, "I don't know, but she is huge!" At which point every pregnant, hormonal woman turned to stare at him. If they'd all had thought bubbles, they would have read: "You would be too if you were eight months pregnant, asshole." You can label this under "things not to say when your significant other is preggers."
Movement
I have felt the baby move a few times now. It's not consistent. One of the strongest nights was when we went to Trinity Pub. Nate was really in the mood for a beer and that's a good place because there's no smoking and they have good food. There was a live band playing Irish music and the baby was doing Lord of the Dance in my belly. It cracked me up. Either she really likes music or she was responding to all the beer in close proximity. If it was the beer, she is truly her father's daughter.
Having a Girl
I think I mentioned before that I was completely and totally convinced I was having a boy. This was due to me having had two dreams about having a son. They felt very real. Also, I was hesitant about having a daughter. I was the first girl born on my mother's side of the family. All of my cousins were boys. So I grew up playing sports. I hated dolls, would wear dresses only when forced to, hated pink, and spent my afternoons running around with boys. I climbed trees, got so many scabs my mother and grandmother warned me I would regret the scars when I was older (not true), and would get chastised at school for taking off my jumper (I would wear shorts underneath) to go run and play soccer, kickball, basketball, or whatever game was going on at the moment. My girlfriends would stand and watch and wonder why I didn't mind getting all sweaty.
I was worried about having a girly-girl. There's nothing wrong with dolls, tea parties, or anything of the "stereotypical" girl activities. It's just that I was never interested in them. My fear was that I will have a child who is and I will have to feign interest. Reading "What's Wrong with Cinderella?" this past weekend also helped my articulate some of my fears.
But in the past couple of days, I just stopped worrying about it. She will be who she will be and if that's someone who wants to paint her nails and wear princess costumes and play with dolls, I'm sure that I'll adjust. Secretly, of course, I hope she often has dirt under her nails and decapitates her barbies or gives them mohawks and is better at sports than her boy friends, but that is not for me to decide.
Cravings
Normally I'm not much for sweets. And I stopped adding sugar to my tea or coffee back in 2000 or so. So my most unusual "craving" has been my desire for sugar. Twice this week I've added sugar to my coffee. Twice I've craved chocolate cake specifically. This is odd because I'm not much of a chocolate person. When I've wanted cake in the past, I usually wanted Italian creme, carrot, or maybe cheese cake. Also, I don't drink regular coke. But I've had some this week and just wanted that sugar syrupy taste. This is weird to me because I normally find all of these things too sweet. I guess this is fairly common, though. I've been trying to buy more fruit to see if eating more natural sugar will help. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with indulging every once in awhile, but the cravings were so fierce they kind of freaked me out, especially since I don't even like sugar that much.
Belly
Between Christmas and New Year's, my belly finally started popping out. Before I don't think I really looked pregnant. One day I was thinking, I just look like I'm gaining weight. Literally the next day after my morning shower I saw myself in the mirror and said, Holy Crap, Batman. I look like I'm having a baby.
Clothes
Due to my pooching belly, I've retired more clothes. I went to a maternity store to get a few things and found several shirts and a few pairs of pants. While I was shopping, I heard a man talking to a sales woman. His wife, he explained, was 8 months pregnant and she needed some new clothes because her old ones were too tight. But he didn't know her size. So the sales women started trying to help him. "About how tall is she? How much do you think she weighs?" He was having a hard time with all of the questions. Finally he said, "I don't know, but she is huge!" At which point every pregnant, hormonal woman turned to stare at him. If they'd all had thought bubbles, they would have read: "You would be too if you were eight months pregnant, asshole." You can label this under "things not to say when your significant other is preggers."
Movement
I have felt the baby move a few times now. It's not consistent. One of the strongest nights was when we went to Trinity Pub. Nate was really in the mood for a beer and that's a good place because there's no smoking and they have good food. There was a live band playing Irish music and the baby was doing Lord of the Dance in my belly. It cracked me up. Either she really likes music or she was responding to all the beer in close proximity. If it was the beer, she is truly her father's daughter.
Having a Girl
I think I mentioned before that I was completely and totally convinced I was having a boy. This was due to me having had two dreams about having a son. They felt very real. Also, I was hesitant about having a daughter. I was the first girl born on my mother's side of the family. All of my cousins were boys. So I grew up playing sports. I hated dolls, would wear dresses only when forced to, hated pink, and spent my afternoons running around with boys. I climbed trees, got so many scabs my mother and grandmother warned me I would regret the scars when I was older (not true), and would get chastised at school for taking off my jumper (I would wear shorts underneath) to go run and play soccer, kickball, basketball, or whatever game was going on at the moment. My girlfriends would stand and watch and wonder why I didn't mind getting all sweaty.
I was worried about having a girly-girl. There's nothing wrong with dolls, tea parties, or anything of the "stereotypical" girl activities. It's just that I was never interested in them. My fear was that I will have a child who is and I will have to feign interest. Reading "What's Wrong with Cinderella?" this past weekend also helped my articulate some of my fears.
But in the past couple of days, I just stopped worrying about it. She will be who she will be and if that's someone who wants to paint her nails and wear princess costumes and play with dolls, I'm sure that I'll adjust. Secretly, of course, I hope she often has dirt under her nails and decapitates her barbies or gives them mohawks and is better at sports than her boy friends, but that is not for me to decide.