New Desk!

Nothing says, "Happy Halloween!" like a new - and FREE - desk. Last night I saw on our neighborhood listserve that a decidedly un-IKEAlike IKEA desk was up for grabs. We went and fetched it and it goes really well in our sparsely-furnished living room. Buggy readily took to it, using the lower shelf as a climbing aid. With the exception of our mattress, drafting table and swivel chair, all of the furniture in our apartment was free. That being the case, much of it will also not travel with us when we move, but this desk is a keeper.

Speaking of moving, we weren't planning on vacating until the end of the year at the earliest, but we're finding as the temperature drops, it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep our apartment warm enough. Our bedroom was an addition to the building, and a poorly-constructed one, at that. The insulation around the windows seems to have not been a major consideration and, though Rob put up plastic reinforced with duct tape then hung blankets over them, the draft still wins! Our bedroom is freezing. When I had to finally break down and adjust the thermostat this past week the bedroom stayed as chilly as an ice box, all the warm air making a beeline for the cracks round the windows. Realizing that we'd be funneling all of my hard-earned money straight to the Equitable Gas Company if we stay here, we checked out two apartments yesterday. The first, an efficiency, offered the same rent but all utilities were included. We scratched the idea of a single room, though - just not enough space for the lot of us. The woman from the management company showed us a second unit that she had: a bright, spacious, high-ceilinged, window-filled one bedroom that fit the bill - $25 more for rent but included gas, which sold us. I could see ourselves occupying that apartment indefinitely (at least while we're in Pittsburgh), so we're in the process of applying for it. The move would be a piece of cake, too; it's only a block or two from where we live now. Here's hoping!

This is what happens if I take my hands off her ankles for a second when she's having her diaper changed; she tries to do the bare-bummed skedaddle every time.
She's always loved her baths.

Just look at those teef! She took after her mama and uncle Tay with that big gap-toothed grin. I love it.

Ryans' Visit and Belated Birthday Presents

Yesterday, while waiting to hear back from Tomi, our landlady about the status of our hot water heater (we'd been without hot water for 30-some hours because our pilot light had blown out somehow), I heard a knock at the door. Not Tomi or the furnace guys, but Kellie! I'd nearly forgotten that she and the kids were going to swing by after they Boogled (Kellie's clever term for trick-or-treating at the Google offices). We all squeezed into our already cluttered living room, Iris commenced wailing, and Gail clung to me, seeking safety from Che (of whom she's terribly frightened; no doubt Kellie's tales of how Che was an unwelcoming hostess to baby Jack when she first brought him by my Baltimore apartment to meet me have influenced and magnified her fears of domestic cats), and Jack watched and listened to Rob singing and playing kids's songs on the guitar. Kellie was a real dear and brought by a box of birthday treats for me: a little pomegranate-hued ceramic colander for tiny eats like cherries and berries, a tin of Smith's Rosebud Salve (made in Frederick County, MD's very own Woodsboro!), and - the icing on the cake - a multi-print ruffled apron! I'd wanted one since getting my job at Cosimano e Ferrari, so it was the perfect gift. I've already gotten loads of compliments on it from other vendors at the market. It's dear. Thanks, Boot! Good job, as usual! We sent them off with a carving pumpkin I'd picked up from Mose, my Amish buddy who runs the farm stand across from Cosimano at the market; we don't have knives sharp enough to do the job, and I knew Kellie and the kids were going to be jack-o-lanterning it up.

I just need Rob to snap some photos of me modeling my new apron, so check back in the next few days. I've been keeping pretty busy, so thecramerlemon has taken a back seat, and with the holiday season quickly approaching I can't imagine that I'll be finding myself with more time on my hands, but I'll do the best I can.

Ohm, Olive Oil Margarine, and Our Olive

I just wrapped up the oil painting that I felt had taken over my life for the past week and a half. It's an Ohm - the Hindu symbol for the absolute, or something to that extent. It's going on the wall in a yoga studio here in Pittsburgh. It's nice to have a deadline. It'll also be nice to air out our little apartment and rid the place of the invasive odor of turpentine, damar varnish, and Liquin Impasto (the awesome - but overly aromatic - medium I tried out for the first time). I can't stand the idea of Buggy breathing in these fumes, especially since my work space coincides with her play area. One day I may have a real studio...

Rob experimented with concocting his own margarine last night; we'd been on a quest to find one without palm oil and our store search produced one option: a tiny tub of Canola oil margarine made by Spectrum priced way higher than it was probably worth. Learning that olive oil emulsifies when blended with a liquid (and stabilizes with added lecithin), he poured soy milk, olive oil, soy lecithin, and a little bit of salt in our new, free-from-craigslist blender and got this:

Looking forward to trying it out, though I'm doubting that I'll care for it made with the yuck 8th Continent soymilk we have.

Here are some photos of our goon snake being sweet, as usual. Her sleep patterns have been less than desirable lately (two nights ago, for instance, she was up five times for feedings between 8:30 pm and 5:30 am); we tried a few nights last week letting her cry it out, but that means over an hour of her wailing, over an hour that I'm not getting any sleep (not to mention our neighbors), and I can't see how it's really helping her in the long run, so now I'm back to feeding and comforting her whenever she wakes in the night. As much as I love my sleep, getting to spend some wee hours time with her is pretty great, too. I feel like much of her recent restlessness is due to teething; she can focus more on the discomfort going on in her gums at night when she's not otherwise engaged. As for her foray into the realm of solid foods, she's still remarkably apathetic. We give her solids every day, and each time she accepts it with disinterest that soon turns to rejection. Ah well. I'm not sweating it; she'll get on board with it sooner or later. Honestly, I'm more than okay with nursing her for a while longer. I love watching her expression and the way her hands and fingers move while she feeds, her plump little digits splaying and fanning in a strange, contented sort of sign language. When I put her in her crib for the night, I tuck her in with her donkey quilt from her aunt, Cat, then sign to her 'I love you', which pleases her greatly. As soon as I make the sign with my hand her face lights up in a glorious grin and she reaches for my outstretched forefinger and pinky to study as I speak the words aloud to her. She loves this nightly bedtime ritual and so do I.

Busy Beaver

I haven't posted in a week and it's because I've been up to my ears in painting projects, one of which is due at the end of the week. It's a large-scale oil painting of an 'om' symbol that's going to be hung in a yoga studio. I'm stressed out. Oils are a mess and the fumes from the damar varnish and odorless turpentine are starting to seep into my brain. Buggy celebrated eight sweet months on Friday. She's pulling up on things but, as we have no furniture in our living room other than my chair and drafting table, I think her progress is impeded. She continues to not sleep that well. It's really my one complaint about our goon; in her eight months she has slept through the night twice. That's it. She's been waking more and more with ear-splitting crying in the wee hours, so I'm moving through life in a fog lately, while trying to work and complete paintings. All is great, though, sleeplessness and toxic materials aside.

More soon...

One Long Day

Nina and her long shadow

Friday was bound to be a long day anyway. I was scheduled to work at the market from 8-3:30. I picked up a large, handsome pumpkin, as well as a blue hubbard squash, from Mose Miller, the friendly Amish farmer who works a booth across from ours, dropped off the pumpkin at home, then headed straight over to the Khorey's where I was going to work till 9, or whenever Lisa, their mother, got back from the airport. I was already missing Olive something awful, but work is work. Nina and I drove over to catch the latter half of Alex's soccer game, then we came home in time to do some laundry then get Noah back over to the field for his soccer game. Nina and I picked up Alex from a friend's house, only to get back home to Noah and his friend's phone message telling us that there was no soccer game so we went back to retrieve the boys. We got back to the house, by which time I was expecting Lisa to return (Doug, their father, was out at a singing gig), but then I got a message from Lisa saying that her flight was late and she wouldn't be getting into Pittsburgh until 10:30. Not so terrible. I was trying to gauge her arrival time, thinking perhaps 11 or so. At 12 Rob called to check on me at around the same time Lisa contacted me to say that she'd just landed. By that point the wheels had started to come off, and I sat in the bathroom expressing milk and tears, just wanting to be home with my husband and child. Oh, and I had to be back at the market at 8 the next morning, and was dreading the idea of being on my feet selling oil for nine hours on not enough sleep. At 1:15 I heard Lisa's car pull up to the house. She's so wonderfully nice and gracious that I couldn't be aggravated with her lateness, and it wasn't her fault. I went home, got to sleep (Olive didn't wake up until I did!), then worked a very pleasant day at the market. As much as I've missed being home the past few days, Rob has reported remarkable naps from Buggy - two-hour naps each day! - and she's been in great spirits. At least if I have to leave her she seems to have no problem whatsoever spending the days with her father reading books, going to the library, playing guitar. It's really the next best thing to being able to stay home all day, every day with her.

Alex, trying to be stealthy

Yesterday evening we went to a welcome-back-to-Pittsburgh party for Emily, one of my coworkers at the market, held at the home of some of her friends in Shadyside. Kate and Nick have a daughter, Juliette, who's just a few weeks older than Olive. There were lots of small children there, as well as a good-with-kids pit bull, Stella, and lots of delicious refreshments. Rob entertained the other guests' questions about his experiences at the zoo and Olive enjoyed the company and the toys and snacked on a few crackers, then we headed home to get her to bed.

Buggy was quickly scooped up by Emily's mother.

And today I'm off (tomorrow too, as Schelly, Rob's eldest sister, is coming to visit just for the day!), and when my goon awakes we'll pack a lunch and head to the zoo.

Zoo Day with the Khorey Kids

Unfortunately I left my camera in the car during our zoo trip today, so I missed out on some really great shots. Next time...

The Khoreys all had half days at school today, so we piled in the car with the family's zoo pass and went to the zoo. On our way there we passed Rob biking towards the staff gate, on his way to a voluntary seminar about the zoo's plant life. We would meet up with him later in the cafeteria where, after explaining to Noah, the eldest Khorey, about his wonky handshake, he explained how he was going to burn off his badly bent right pinky with a torch and replace it with a solid gold robotic finger. The gorillas were in rare form, taking to the indoor exhibit enclosure because the sky threatened rain (and the gorillas here hate the rain). We got to see them up close and the kids got a rise when Rob showed them how Harry, the lesser silverback, displays whenever he's around, pounding the glass to show Rob that, though he's not the leader among the gorillas, he's superior to him. Nina and I are going to go to the zoo again so we can see the Sicilian donkeys since she was disappointed that we didn't get to see them when we went.

My Favorite 34 Year-Old

Thirty-four years ago this morning at 2 am, Rob was born. According to his mother, Olive inherited his pleasant temperament (but not his looks, which I doubted at first. Then she showed me some of his baby pictures and she was right; hardly any resemblance). From what she says about his earliest years, he seems to have not changed all that much: he's patient, calm, diplomatic to a fault and happy without fail. I'm filled with pride as I watch him devote his energy to working with the gorillas at the zoo, proving himself to be (what I imagine to be) one of the most valuable interns they've ever had. He's been an inspiration to me as a parent to Olive; I love coming home from work to find the two of them sitting in bed with a book spread open before them, her happy as can be. I know she'll grow up appreciating what an incredible father she has. How on earth I landed such a catch I'll never know. I'll just be thankful.

Happy birthday, Rob!

And What a Gift it Was!

So you all remember Bruce Bradbury of birthday fame (see post from 9.10.10)? He'd alerted me several days ago of the pending arrival of a birthday gift to me. He'd told me in error; he'd thought that he'd accidentally ordered something that was coming in my package and had requested that I send it back to them. This ended up not being the case, he told me to ignore it, and apologized for spoiling the surprise. I was curious but could easily wait until it arrived. Bruce had no need to worry about a surprise being spoiled, however. I was anticipating something sweet, something thoughtful, something Bruce. When the FedEx man appeared at my door this morning, however, I stared at the box - ambiguously labeled - and felt its heft. Taking the mysterious parcel into the kitchen, I carefully cut along the taped seam and peered inside. I was incredulous - and admittedly felt a little of that dazed feeling I experienced when I first found out I was pregnant (at Bruce's sister's house in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, no less)- for what looked up at me was the clean, streamlined box and handle of an Apple product. I pulled out the cardboard packaging materials and carefully lifted the little briefcase that housed a MacBook. Seriously. I'd recently told Bruce, who'd inquired about the computer I was using these days, and I told him I was still plugging away with my old, formerly school-owned iBook G4 that's been on its last legs for a while, and that I sometimes fantasized about one day owning a jazzy new machine. I believe those were the exact words I used. Just this very morning while turning on my computer, I rued the fact that I still had to go through the same process that teachers in Maine had to go through - clicking on the apple picture with "Teacher" underneath, entering my password, then seeing the map of Maine come up on the blue screen with the letters MLTI running across (I believe it stands for Maine Learning Technology Initiative. I could be dead wrong about that). No more! No I can pass my old Mac along to Zoe, who will hopefully get some good use out of the old beater (I'll leave all of my music files on it in hopes that the good tunes will infiltrate her impressionable, ten-year-old subconscious).

As I sit here typing, my fingers not yet familiar with this new (and oh, so clean!) keyboard, I'm still not quite believing my good fortune. And not just for the fancy new Mac, really. It's great. I love it. But to have a friend like Bruce...well, that's the best part of all.

Safeguarding

This week I scored three baby gates from a woman I found on craigslist - two for our apartment and one to keep at the Khorey's (the doorway to their basement has no door, so a gate is crucial).  We have them in the bathroom doorway (one of my worst nightmares involves Olive crawling into Che and Wendell's litter box that we keep in the bathroom closet) and the entryway where we keep our shoes.  She has free reign of everywhere else.  Last night I realized that I needed to keep glass objects out of her reach, as well.  An empty baby food jar had made its way to the living room floor, serving as one of the many household item toys that have struck her fancy, but then I heard a clink gone bad: I looked up to see our goon wielding the little jar, its mouth jagged after being cracked against the exposed brick wall.  Horrified, I snatched the weapon and the remaining shards that littered the carpet.  I don't know where she learned that trick; while I can think of a few folks offhand who may resort to that kind of thing, Rob and I most certainly don't engage in that violent barroom sort of behavior.  

We Gots the Sickness

My sinuses have a long history of turning against me for the better part of the year. I never can tell whether or not I have a cold or it's just my four-seasonal allergies popping in to say hello. Today marks a full three weeks with a bad cough. In any event, I've learned to deal with it (as Rob's learned to deal with my chronic symphonic nose-blowing). Buggy, on the other hand, is far less accustomed to the nuisance that is a perpetually running nose combined with nasal congestion. On Monday, Kellie came by with her brood for a last quick visit before they took off on a three-week trip to the midwest and Colorado. The Ryans are no strangers to the sickness, and Iris was in full-blown cold mode. Whether she caught it from Iris or me, one thing is for certain: she got it good. On Wednesday night she kept me up nearly all night, hear breath rattly from the mucous blocking her little nostrils. The next night I resolved to be vigilant about feeding her whenever she stirred; replenishing her fluids with the immune-boosting breast milk is the best way to combat a cold in babies (and not over-the-counter meds, as some "experts" would like for mothers to believe). Sho' 'nuff, I noticed a marked difference in her breathing two nights ago, and the dripping had tapered. Yesterday her cheeks were extra rosy thanks to the nose-wiping that had dried her skin, but she was in good spirits all day.

We took advantage of the Indian summer weather by going to the zoo. Rather than spending all of our time with the gorillas as we usually do, we walked around the whole zoo, including the PPG Aquarium, where Buggy enjoyed watched the fish and penguins (and I was mesmerized by the jellyfish...I've always been fascinated by those j-fish, the ghosts of the ocean).


My real highlight of the visit? A little gray Sicilian donkey. The two donkeys had been in quarantine for a while and I'd heard Rob talk about caring for them before they were put on exhibit. I want this little guy. Well, my birthday is tomorrow, so...

'Rilla Feeding!

Our own baby 'rilla with souvenir scraps from her trek into the jungle.

As if getting free zoo privileges isn't enough, Olive and I were treated to an extra special lunchtime experience today while visiting Rob on his break. We were taken behind the scenes today into the TFC (Tropical Forest Complex) where they house the primates' indoor enclosures. Rob cut up plums for the animals and we went from cage to cage, offering fruit chunks to the eager primates. First we came upon the orangutans, Ember and her 4 year-old, Jiwa, a sweet and spunky little guy who reminds us of Buggy. Jiwa was leery of me, a stranger, but his mother slowly approached and took the proffered plum in her appendage-like lips.

Ember and little Jiwa

We then visited the gorillas, most of whom gathered around us with interest. Ibo was her normal, social self, but today I got to spend a little more time getting to know Anju better. She's a sweetheart, and she and I traded back and forth a stalk of celery and played a stick game wherein she'd pass me a stick through the bars and I'd take it, scratch her with it, and she'd take it from me. Most of the gorillas seem to be fascinated with Olive, and are beginning to become familiar with me, too. Harry, the smaller silverback, Moka, who shies away from most everyone, including the gorillas, and Zakula, the 42 year-old mother of Anju and Mrithi, the dominant silverback, who harbors intense feelings of lustful ardor for Rob, are the ones who haven't really warmed to me, and I doubt they ever will. We also got to go back into what is known as "the jungle", the forest set behind the primates' enclosures where the public can view them. We hand-fed Johnny, the male mandrill, who was a tad aggressive, the white-faced sakis with their tiny, delicate hands gingerly plucking the treats from my fingers, and the howler monkeys, who preferred to take their plum chunks while upside-down.

Rob tickling Ibo's pot belly.
Getting to feed Mrithi, the mammoth silverback, was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
Sweet Anju, so appreciative of the treats she was getting.
Needless to say, being the wife of a budding zookeeper is pretty dope. I'm just counting my lucky stars I didn't wind up with a doctor or lawyer or some other white collar profession that doesn't involve cleaning ape cages. And I'm happy that Olive's getting these opportunities at such an early age. I think we're all in for a really exciting ride...