Jacob and Esau

I read most of a home organization book a little while ago and it taught me some valuable lessons, like it's appropriate to throw away all the half-empty bottles of shampoo/conditioner/lotion that you've been storing in your bathroom for years, along with all the free samples that you aren't using. Or that the master bedroom should be a haven and not full of things that aren't related to sleeping and dressing. (I didn't get rid of the TV, though. Murray and I don't have a habit of watching TV in our bedroom, but it's really convenient to have in there for times when someone is sick, or nights when I know that I'm going to fall asleep during the movie. I guess in my mind, the destructiveness of having a television in the bedroom comes when it's on all the time and you just channel surf. Since we don't do that at all, I think that it's okay to keep the TV.)

One thing that the book said was that if you have sports or hobby equipment for sports or hobbies that you no longer participate in, you need to get rid of it. Well, the other day, I came across my beloved climbing shoes and it pains me to think of getting rid of them. But then I remembered something else I heard, which is if you're getting rid of items with sentimental value, take a picture of them so that you can keep the sentimental value and then give them away.

So here goes. Here are two pictures of Jacob and Esau, and here's the story behind their sentimental value.

Back in college, El Senor, Fabuloso and I were all involved with climbing. It started with El Senor, who became the weekend manager at a local climbing gym. Fabuloso and I, and all of our friends at that time, bought memberships to the gym and climbing became our social outlet. We'd get together most weekend nights and climb at the gym. Afterwards, we'd go to El Senor's apartment, cook a dinner, and watch a movie. I wasn't the greatest climber in the world, but I did make progress and if I remember correctly, worked my way up to a 5-10c. Mostly I was a social climber and just enjoyed the sociality of hanging out with my friends.

Eventually, El Senor inherited the presidency of BYU's rock climbing club, Y Rocks. He named me the director of communications (which meant that I wrote the emails for the activities) and Fabuloso conveniently became our faculty advisor (he was working full-time for BYU at the time and therefore qualified as faculty). We were, of course, accused of nepotism. But we didn't care. One major regret I have is not keeping a copy of all the emails that we put together for the activities. Some of them were quite creative, if I do say so myself. We had bi-weekly activities (and I explained that that didn't mean twice a week, but rather every two weeks) and I liked to throw in a way for members to get into the climbing gym for free for each activity. At one activity, I said that anyone who wrote a poem about climbing would be able to get in for free. And only five people wrote poems! It always amazed me what people wouldn't do to get into these activities for free. Admission was $8. If you just sat down and cranked out a haiku or a lymerick about climbing, I would have let you in for free. And yet only five people took advantage of that? I announced another get-in-for-free offer in 2002. I proclaimed it the year of the tutu, and any climber wearing a tutu would be allowed in for free at any activity. Only three people took advantage of that deal---a guy and two girls who all went to the fabric store, bought some tutu fabric, and wore their tutus over their clothes. Basically, all of my offers to get in for free involved making a fool of yourself for my entertainment. When we held a competition one day, prizes were such things as tube socks and gift certificates for Chuck-a-Rama. Fabuloso said that it would be more appropriate to rename the club Y-Jerks.

For a while I had no climbing shoes and had to use a spare pair that El Senor had acquired. But on my birthday one year, I was predictably at the climbing gym with my brothers and our friends. Someone suggested I try a particular route and everyone came to watch and cheer me on. When I reached the top of the wall and finished the route, I called to be let down, but I wasn't let down. El Senor told me to really finish the route by climbing even higher. There was technically room for me to go higher since the walls don't go all the way up to the ceiling, so I climbed a little higher so that my head was above the wall. They encouraged me to climb higher still so I did. Then El Senor said there was something on the other side of the wall that he needed me to get. I looked on the other side of the wall and there was a shoe box sitting there. It contained a gift from my parents---a pair of 5-10 Moccasins.

I loved the shoes and noticed that the suede of one was much shaggier than the other, so I named them Jacob and Esau. Now as I look at these pictures, I can remember fondly the days when I used to be a climber.

Gulliver's Expressions II

Here's some more photos! You can see that I'm trying to catch some smiles. It's difficult to catch smiles because there is a lag on the iPhone's camera, which accounts for the wide range of expressions I get from Gulliver any time I try to capture just one.


There's no baby like snow baby. I took Gulliver for his first walk the other day and since it was very cold outside, I bundled him up in his snow suit. Of course, he didn't love that, but that doesn't matter since he fell asleep approximately 30 seconds into the walk anyway.

My sister-in-law is lending me their family bassinet while Gulliver is sleeping in our room. It came with a fabric cover that had a ruffle on top that kept getting into the basket and blocking my view of Gulliver. So I realized that I had extra fabric that just happened to magically match our bedroom, and I sewed together a new cover for the bassinet. And I didn't mind using my fabric either for something that I only have temporarily because I didn't have to cut it up much for this project, so basically when I'm done using this, I can just put it back in the fabric pile and reuse it for future projects. Hooray!

Gulliver is wearing the yellow submarine onesie that his dad bought for him today. And Murray is wearing a yellow submarine shirt. (Gulliver is unhappy in this picture because I accidentally pinched him while putting on his shirt!)

So that I could participate in the fun theme, I am wearing a yellow shirt. Maybe we'll go out for a night on the town tonight. I mean, why bother dressing matchy-matchy if no one is going to see?

Schadenfreude

Lots of people let Murray and me know that it would be best to have our child before the new year so that we could get a child tax credit for 2008. That is true that we could have had that, but you see, for us there was financial benefit whenever Gulliver came, and in fact the greater financial benefit would be for him to come after the new year, just like he did. He's already a good kid.

You see, I've needed foot surgery for quite a while, and the last time I saw the podiatrist, he recommended my having it done before having children because pregnancy can wreak havoc on your feet. What I didn't know was that I was pregnant at the time of that consultation. So we put the foot surgery on hold, and along came Gulliver in 2009, which meant that we would meet our insurance deductible early on in the year. So 2009 is my official makeover year, where I will have surgery on both feet and maybe even have a gallbladder removed.

So yesterday I brought Murray to my podiatric consultation so that I wouldn't have to repeat any information to him and lose key info in the transmission and so that he'd have the chance to ask the doctor his questions. (Murray always thinks of questions that I don't think to ask.) That way we could both decide immediately when to schedule the first surgery.

We were in the waiting room for a while---we got there early and the good doctor was way late. We waited along with several people, one of whom was a girl in her late teens. She made a phone call and this is kindof how it went: "Hello? Uh, why haven't you called me? ... You could have borrowed someone else's cell phone if yours was broken. ... I have been worried sick about you for two days but you don't seem to care about that. ... You could have borrowed another phone. I can't believe you never even tried to call. ... Well maybe next time you won't have a girlfriend to forget to call. ... Yeah. I said maybe next time you won't have a girlfriend." At this point she went outside to conduct her very personal conversation more privately and make more ultimatums and stuff.

She was called in shortly before I was. After I was called in, Murray and Gulliver and I waited in the consultation room a while. We could hear the doctor telling the teenage girl that he could shoot steroids into her foot. I talked to Murray about my experience with the steroids four years ago where it was so painful that I couldn't keep quiet, but the only socially-acceptable noise I could make was laughter, so I basically laughed (barked) like a hyena. You'll find that story here.

Well, Murray and I were just talking and suddenly we heard screaming that turned into hysterical sobbing. Murray felt the need to continue talking because he felt it would be more awkward if we stopped talking and were obviously eavesdropping. So he said something like this: "Just keep talking... uhhhhh... so how do you like... world peace? Are you for it or against it?" I must admit that the girl's hysteria was even more entertaining than her waiting room breakup.

We did schedule the surgery for later this month, by the way. I know it'll suck for a while, but I'm looking forward to the day when I can walk for more than ten minutes without having to deal with pain.

Marriage to the Artist

Saturday evening, Murray and I had a reception to go to. As a new mother, any excuse to get out of the house is a good excuse, even for the simple reason that it means getting to wear something that is not sweatpants. I absolutely get giddy when I go to my closet to choose what it is I'm going to wear. This Saturday was even more special because I'd recently found my favorite headband that had been lost for over a year (another blog post on this later). There was one slight problem. The headband was kelly green but I couldn't find my matching kelly green shirt. But I could find my olive green shirt. And I wondered if I could really get away with this, and I finally justified it because the headband is a little iridescent and I'm sure that in the changing of colors, an olive hue was in there somewhere. And so it was that I put on a fabulous gray wrap, an olive green shirt, and a great pair of jeans. This outfit was so not sweatpants.

Murray, Gulliver and I got into the car. And we got about 0.25 of a block away from the house when this conversation began:

Cicada: Wait. What kind of a reception is this?

Murray: A wedding reception.

Cicada: What??? I can't wear jeans to a wedding reception! I thought that it was like an art show or something!!

[This despite the fact that Murray had said that we needed to meet his coworkers at 6:00 because they tended to attend these things together---just like they did at our wedding reception. Also despite the fact that I'm pretty sure Murray explicitly said "wedding reception" at some point. But because he initially said "reception at my boss's studio" my brain had latched onto the word "studio," assumed that it was an art show, and refused to register any additional information about the evening.]

Murray: You look fine. You'll be okay in jeans.

Cicada: I absolutely cannot do it. Or... maybe I can do it. No! I can't do it! Turn the car around!

[Murray drives straight through a roundabout.]

Cicada: That would have been an ideal time to turn the car around.

Murray: Are you serious?

Cicada: Yes. I absolutely cannot wear jeans. We need to go back to the house.

[We drive back to the house. Murray waits with Gulliver in the car while I run into the mess that is a bedroom as we're in the middle of a closet cleaning project that involves me getting out all my non-maternity clothes that have been packed away for months. I realize that the only skirt that will match the existing shirt and sweater combo is one that has been packed away. I find it and bless polyester because it is not wrinkled. I put it on and start the mad search for pantyhose, which I also haven't worn in months. I find a great pair of patterned black hose and in trying to put them on realize that they are torn to shreds and must go into the garbage. I start searching for my nude fishnets with no luck. I decide to do something I never do, and that is go out without pantyhose in the middle of the winter. And I thank the heavens that despite me being a new mother, I did actually shave my legs the day before. I run out into the car.]

Cicada: Ugh. I'm not wearing pantyhose. Do you think that'll be okay? I really wish I could have found pantyhose!

[Murray pulls away and gets onto the road again.]

Murray: No, you look fine. The lack of pantyhose doens't bother me at all. But I will mention, just so that you know, something about your headband.

Cicada: Oh no.

Murray: It's just that it's not the same color of green as your shirt. Your shirt is an olive green. The headband is more of a blue green. I'm just saying that they don't go together.

Cicada: I was wondering about that...

Murray: Some people just see two things and they think, "These things are both green! They must go together!" But those two colors of green don't go together.

Cicada: You know, this is something that you could have told me BEFORE I ran into the house.

Murray: I didn't really see it until you came out of the house.

Cicada: Well, are you embarrassed to be seen in public with me? Should we turn the car around again?

Murray: No, but couldn't you just take it out and fluff your hair?

Cicada: No.

Murray: I don't pretend to understand how women's hair works. But anyway, I love color! And I see color everywhere. It's kindof like you and how you're always watching for birds. I always look for color. Like that road sign back there. I don't just see a green road sign. I see blue-green. And I don't see orange. I see red-orange. I just can always immediately see differences in colors.

Cicada: By "immediately" you mean "after it's too late for me to change my headband."

Murray: Well, I don't want to give you a complex or anything.

And so it was that I wore a mismatched headband to a wedding reception. At least I wasn't wearing jeans.

Gulliver's Expressions

Here are some pictures from a photo shoot in bed this morning. Gulliver has lots of expressions. I think that he might be starting to smile socially, but it's hard to tell whether it's social or gas. I wasn't able to get any of his smiles anyway.


Speaking of gas, I have to say that Gulliver farts toots a lot. I don't know if this is typical of babies. He doesn't burp much at all. All of the gas seems to come out the other end, and he sounds like an adult. I can't wait to take him to church!

(Of course, I guess that just means that I can let loose in public and always just blame the baby.)