In between days

My mind has become pregnant with thoughts I have no time, energy nor space to sort through. Oliver is 7 months old and is what we are calling a baubler: not quite a toddler, but almost not a baby. He is crawling, eating, getting into everything, and bumping his head at least a dozen times a day. God, Ollie is so funny, and loving, and cute. I can’t believe how lucky we are. I look him and can’t believe that he came from me. Life has just become an exhausting riot; the primary focus has been keeping our very independent baby from seriously hurting himself. At the end of the day I sometimes try to indulge in a bath and get in enough time to read a bit before sleep conquers me. I have picked up the best American non-required reading, and have been really impressed with some of the writing so far. An anthology is perfect for me…I don’t seem to have the time nor the intellectual stamina anymore to get through a larger novel these days. Short stories are just right; I can read an entire story before bed and get to, sort of, still enjoy that sense of fulfillment or accomplishment that normally comes at the end of a book. I am totally up for some recommendations of some good short-story anthologies to read when I finish up with this one. Sometimes I still can’t believe I am a mother; I think that motherhood suits me well, at least I think I am doing a good job at it, and I really do like it, though I am battling a bit of post-partum depression and I find it so ironic because I never really believed in depression before. I am still trying to figure out who I am as a mother and living in the middle of Illinois, or as I like to call it, hell. I am feeling a little bit lost these days and Oliver and I have been spending more time indoors as it gets colder outside. I am desperate to get dressed up (I miss wearing my amazing black pumps and find that nobody, ever, wears pumps here), to go to a good rock show and to go out for some pints with a couple of friends somewhere with a really good jukebox, and to go dancing somewhere with some really good soul music and good dancing space. Of course everywhere I have in mind is in Chicago…everything I want to do is in Chicago. I feel so homesick for the city, and really want Oliver to grow up in its streets, smelling the chocolate and lilacs in the air, riding the pee-soaked train all over the city, getting sand in his toes while flying kites at the beach, and walking to Dollop after school for some tea and to chat about his day. I am really working hard on finding things I love here, and I really like the Urbana library; it is the best way for us to spend our day indoors. Oliver has such a great time tumbling about in the children’s room, and they have a really good music & dvd selection.

Oh-I am totally smitten with this site.
Go forth and waste precious hours of your day.

Warm and Fuzzy

Christmas is upon us and it is getting very, very cold outside. The McCuerda's have decided that in lieu of gifts to each other (we really have enough "stuff" and aren't in need of anything)we are going to make some donations to homeless shelters, and maybe we can inspire others to do the same thing. The growing gap between the haves and the have-nots is just so sad, and shameful. While we are not in a financial situation to call ourselves haves, we do have a little to give, and certainly have sweaters & hats to donate. I like the idea of buying a few Walgreen's gift cards in small amounts to allow people the autonomy to get what they want. I know if I were homeless, and all I wanted was some cheap wine, I would not want people to judge that, or feel that they somehow had the right to dictate what I could have. So here is a list if items and events in Chicago offering ways to help...I know we all have needy people in our own back yards, but it is a good list to think about what people need from the Night Ministry (I also like the idea of movie passes, allowing people to warm up a bit, maybe find a safe place to take a nap, use the bathroom):


WHAT THE NIGHT MINISTRY NEEDS

For our Holiday Celebrations:
For all of our programs, we need gift certificates in specific denominations at certain places:

* $5 McDonald's or similar
* $10 Walgreens
* $10 Dollar store of any name
* $25 Target

For our Health Outreach Bus Celebration, we need 1,000 full-sized winter blankets, 1,000 unisex holiday stockings, 2,500 winter hats and gloves for adults, teens, and children. Large cans of hot chocolate mix, and homemade or Oreo cookies packed in plastic sandwich bags (3 to a bag) are also needed. Download a brochure for details.

For all of our Youth Services, we need:
- six waterproof, sturdy, durable CD/Tape player boom boxes
- CTA cards, which we give to youth needing to get to school or other appointments.
- Movie passes with food coupons

For our three Open Door Youth Shelter programs (Interim, Transitional, and Response-Ability Pregnant & Parenting) at two locations (West Town and Lakeview):
- twin bed sheet sets and towel sets.
- non-dated tickets to Chicago cultural institutions such as: Shedd Acquarium, Museum of Science & Industry, Field Museum, Art Institute, etc.

Our Interim Housing program needs one 27”+ television set.

For our teen moms at our Response-Ability Pregnant and Parenting Program we’re seeking infant snowsuits, and a variety of duffle bags for young moms when they leave the program.

If you’re interested in helping out with our Holiday Celebration, contact Volunteer Coordinator, Gail Bernoff via email or call 773-784-9000 x6015.

Throughout the year, gathering donations is a wonderful service project for a family, group of friends or students, congregational outreach/youth groups, corporate groups, or individuals of all ages.

To help make shopping for in-kind donations easier, The Night Ministry has set up gift registries at Target and Babies R Us.
Download instructions for using our gift registries.

Help us by holding a drive to collect:
- new hygiene kits items, especially trial sized deoderant Download our hygiene kit recipe.
- new white athletic socks
- cookies
- new men's and women's underwear in a variety of sizes

Download "Hold A Drive" wish list & information.
We regret that we cannot arrange pickups or accept donations of used items.
We cannot accept clothing or household items such as kitchen equipment or furniture.

NOTE: Once a week, youth we serve have an opportunity to visit Howard Brown's resale shop, the Brown Elephant, with clothing vouchers from us. If you are looking for a place to donate used items (clothing & household), please consider bringing your items to the Brown Elephant (Halsted & Waveland location). This is the important part: When you drop off your items and fill out the form, please say that you were referred by The Night Ministry.

For in-kind items, please contact Francine Ferrara before bringing anything by to make sure that the items are still needed. For more information or if you have any of these items at 773-784-9000 x6025 or via email.

It's Big Time

Oliver is 6 months old today. Here he is playing in his first snow on his first Thanksgiving during his first trip to Minnesota. What a ham.He totally loved the snow, it was such a riot having him out there and watching him take it all in, seeing the snowflakes land on his face. So sweet.

Three things:

1. Haagen Dazs has a few new flavors, and while they are not Jeni’s, they are super tasty. I picked up 2 pints last week, the Mayan Chocolate, which is dark chocolate with cinnamon, and the caramelized pear and toasted pecan , which is one of the best store bought ice creams I have ever had. The pear is apparently a limited edition, so I would highly recommend picking up some as soon as possible. Your life will be made better by these ice creams.
2. I was listening to the Lightening Seeds while on a short road trip with Oliver. The Lightening Seeds were one of my favorite bands during the period between the second semester of my sophomore and junior years of high school. I like to bring back past loves for the nostalgia value occasionally, and I had the funniest memory come back to me when Joy came on. I had just turned 17, it was the second semester of my junior year, and I was spending the night a friend’s house whose dad was out of town for the weekend (she lived with just her dad). Her boyfriend had abruptly broken up with her in the totally devastating way the 17 year old boys were accustomed to doing. When I got there she was wrecked, crying and listening to Joy over and over again; it was a cassette, which meant that she had to keep rewinding it. I told her that she had enough of the self torture, took the tape, put in the Ramones and we made cocktails with Hi-C Boppin’Berry juice boxes and vodka, got a little bit buzzed and watched Valley Girl 3 times in a row. It was one of the first few times I had ever drank, and I remember having that excited and slightly scary feeling of having a bit of autonomy that happens when teenagers are first left to themselves.
3. I was giddy in that memory when we got back from our short trip only to have it ruined by the sounds of “A Prairie Home Companion”. We stream WBEZ on Saturday mornings; the line up is just perfect: Car Talk, Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me, Sound Opinions, This American Life, and Re-Sound. It is so good, it is hard to leave the house, so we find reasons to putz around, listening all morning. I left the stream going while out, so it was on when I got back. I had to feed Oliver so I did not have time to shut the stream off; I was forced to listen to the show for about a half an hour. I have never really listened to "A Prairie Home Companion" before and it is truly an awful show. I have never been a fan of Garrison Keillor, and now I like him even less.

Naptime Schmaptime

Household tip #1

A few days ago I splattered some bleach on my favorite pair of charcoal grey pants. I haphazardly seized upon a moment to clean up the kitchen while wearing said pants, and the catastrophe occurred. It made me a bit sad, and not being too crafty, I wondered how I could save them. If these were black pants, I would have dotted over the spots with my trusty chunky Sharpie, like I have done many times in the past, with decent results. But these were not black, they were grey, and Sharpie does not make a trusty charcoal grey chunky marker (damn them). Suddenly it occurred to me that I could try to turn my favorite pair of charcoal grey pants into my favorite pair of black pants with some dye! Genius, I know. I bought some black RIT dye and read the instructions very carefully. I am really not very crafty, I am prone to using super clue to fix ripped seams, and using Sharpies, staples, etc on my clothes, so using some RIT dye put me right up there with Martha in my mind. I did learn how to use a sewing machine, once, in home economics in junior high, but the effect was less than mental floss. According to the instructions, you need to use the whole bottle of the dye with a pound of fabric, so I gathered up some of my older comfy black tee shirts and yoga pants to throw in with the catastrophe pants. The result was beautiful, seriously. I am totally impressed, and feeling so super crafty…not Ready Made crafty, but above super glue crafty. My pants look really good black, and the charcoal seams did not dye, and made this really cool look, and my old black clothes look brand new. I am just so proud of my handy little homemaker self!

Learning to eat

So far, the hardest part about being a parent has been teaching Oliver how to eat. Swallowing food does not come naturally to babies, and I am not quite sure of the best way to communicate this to the little man. It is proving to be a riot of a learning experience. Babies can be such little drunken monkeys sometimes, it is total comedy.

It is so bizarre

There are squirrels running all over the neighborhood and all over the Chambana area. I keep wondering what squirrel poop must look like, and why have I never seen it? My whole life, I have lived where there are loads of squirrels, and I have never seen their poop, nor seen proof of it. So mysterious.

Nap time!

I want a little row boat to China too.

Last night I dreamt that cancer cells were a function in human evolution. They were developing out of a need for humans to adapt to the changes happening in their environments. The cancer actually was responding to the chemical adaptations in our environment. Humans were dying because of the treatments to the cancer, but not the cancer itself. The methods used to kill cancer were making us weaker, less adaptive. No one in the medical or science fields could actually figure this out. People were too scared of cancer to allow it to serve its purpose. I had tried to communicate this to a group of doctors, but they were trying to have me killed.

A fantastic FYI!

PARK(ing)Day 2007!

September 21, 2007 - PARK(ing) Day
PARK(ing) Day is a one-day, global event centered in San Francisco where artists, activists, and citizens collaborate to temporarily transform parking spots into “PARK(ing)” spaces: temporary public parks.

Nationwide: The Trust for Public Land is spearheading National PARK(ing) Day in more than a dozen major cities across the U.S., including NYC, LA, DC, Seattle, Portland, Chicago, St. Paul, Boston, Austin, Salt Lake City, Tampa, Miami and others.
Learn more and get involved here!

The mission:

To rethink the way streets are used, call attention to the need for urban parks, and improve the quality of urban human habitat....at least until the meter runs out!

Go forth and PARK!

That’s Wack: a rant about Champaign

I apologize in advance for the storm of negativity you are about to experience; I really just need to get some things off of my chest.

1. A few weeks ago Oliver and I were walking home after a going away party for some friends. It was dusk when we left, and fairly dark by the time we got home. There was a strange car parked with its lights on, running, and a person sitting in the driver seat, right in front of our house. I was really freaked out about the car just sitting there, when I saw a person walking through our back yard, in the dark. I had no idea if someone was in the house, or what was going on, but it was all very weird and very scary. I called 911, and sat there, in front of the open front door, holding a sleeping Oliver, plotting the best way to get out of the house quickly, if someone was there. The car sat there for over an hour, and so did I, just watching it, totally scared. The police never came. They never came! I think that is only the second or third time in my life I have called 911, and I did it because I actually felt like it was necessary, not because it seemed like a fun thing to do; and the police never came. How is that even possible? It is Champaign, so I am sure they were too busy pulling over young brown skinned boys for no reason to show up for an actual call where they are actually needed. The list of what-if’s running through my head is just insane, and I don’t feel safe here anymore. How can I trust that should I need them again, they will actually show up this time? Word to Chuck D is all I have to say about that.

2. Trash removal is a privatized service here. It is totally retarded. On our block alone there are at least 5 different trash removal companies picking up trash on Thursdays. The trucks start at about 3 in the morning and keep coming until about 10. It is the most insane system I have ever witnessed. 5 different trucks come and pick up trash from 5 different houses, almost right in a row. It is so inefficient, wasteful, noisy, and just stupid. I think I am running for mayor to reform this ridiculous crap.

3. I have just started riding my bike again since having Oliver, and working out work schedules with Sasha. Yesterday I rode to campus town to work at Bar Gulianni, the best and only place to get coffee here. I had 5 cars yell at me! I know, I have heard of this happening, but it seemed like an exaggeration until I actually experienced it. 5 cars, all middle aged, seemingly middle class white people. I got 1 “you’re going to get killed”, 2 “get on the sidewalk” and 2 “get off the road”. What is wrong with these people? What is wrong with this town? Don’t they understand that sidewalks are for pedestrians, and that bikes are vehicles? And ‘you’re going to get killed” …really? That is just mean and total malarkey. Don’t be scurred of the bikes Champaign; it’s going to be okay.

4. I miss Chicago.

Super sweet schwinn

I got to ride my bike to school today! It was so fantastic. I have not been able to ride my bike since November, when my belly first started to get too big to peddle safely. It was such a great feeling. How I missed riding fast and feeling so fluid. The best part was whizzing past the mess of backed up cars. Oh how I missed my bike. It really is a shame that it is seemingly dangerous for me to put Oliver in the Bjorn and take him riding. It would be so fun. I can't wait until he is big enough for some type of bike carrier (preferably the Chariot side car). I wish that Champaign was more bike friendly...actually I just wish that we lived in Chicago, I do love riding my bike there! If only there was a way to move our house & the rent we pay...

One day, lad, all this will be yours

What, the curtains?

It hardly seems believable that Oliver is already 12 weeks old. It is so amazing how much he has already grown and developed. The way he observes his world is so fantastic, I love watching him look at things, how big his eyes get. Whenever I encounter mothers of older children all I ever hear are stories of what their babies were like at his age, how fast they grow, and how much they miss their babies. Yet when I am with my own mother, or around mothers with toddlers, all I ever hear is don’t rock him to sleep, just put him down and walk away, let him learn to calm himself, let him learn to fall asleep on his own. They offer advice, to not hold him too much, to not let him get into the habit of falling asleep in my arms, I’ll rue the day… I just hate it. I just hate the way so many people want their babies to not need them, to grow up faster then they should. Oliver is only going to be a baby for less than a year. That’s it. And that time will go by so fast. I know that in a blink of an eye he’ll be eighteen, and there will be no more rocking him to sleep at night. His bedtime is 30 minutes of total sweetness at the end of his day (that is if he is not having a total meltdown) that we both need. He is not alert and looking around, he doesn’t want to play, he is not fussing; he just wants a cuddle, and to be read to or sung to. Yet I get told, in an ominous warning fashion, that if I rock him to sleep, he’ll never be able to fall asleep on his own. I call bullshit on that. I’ll be able to rock him to sleep maybe until he is 3, and then he’ll be too big, too independent, and then, no more. I am oh so aware of the fact that my baby will only be a baby for a very small amount of time, and I want to relish in it. I want to be able to have a good cuddle with him for as long as I am able. I know that the day will come all too soon when my little baby will not want me to rock him, or sing to him. Why is that so many parents don’t seem to realize this? Why is it that so many parents feel that it is somehow wrong that their babies need them, that they need to be held and rocked? Is it cultural to be so unaffectionate? I can’t do that. I am totally going to overload the little man with cuddles and affection. I think those things are important, necessary. Life should be sweet for babies; we should rock them to sleep at night, every night. These are the best years of his life, and over all too soon. Someday he’ll have to get a job, an apartment, deal with dating, people, life, and parental cuddles won’t be socially acceptable anymore. How do I deal with all of this “advice” I keep getting that is just so antithetical to what I think having the good life be all about?

Drive-by egging

When I was in junior high, all of the girls had to take a home economics class which involved various sewing projects (i.e.: torture for me) and partake in the obligatory egg baby assignment. The egg baby assignment involved hallowing out an egg, which was marked with either a b or g on the bottom (for boy or girl), then decorating your egg baby however you choose, usually with yarn and markers. We were required to take care of our egg babies for a week, take them with us to classes (despite the many protests from the teachers of the more academic classes), and keep a journal of their day, when they ate, what they did. We were required to obtain and pay a babysitter if we needed to be away from our egg babies. The whole project was insulting and irritating to me. It was designed to be an anti-teen pregnancy lesson. I had never even kissed a boy, and certainly did not want to be accused of having sex (or being careless if I were) in this intrusive assumption. It was totally sexist, the boys never had to carry around egg babies, or take home economics (which teaches young boys that babies aren’t their problem, and that sewing is torture only for girls?). I thought it was a ridiculous way to spend my time, I’d rather be bouncing on my bed to “egg raid on mojo”, than carting around some hallowed out egg. And I for sure was not going to pay anyone to hang out with said hallowed out egg. My egg baby journal was a beautiful work of fiction, with stories of peek-a-boo games we would play, and I had my friends sign off on babysitting for the egg, attesting to being paid for their hard work. Long gone are the days of pre-teens ignoring their eggs. Now junior high girls get to tote around a Real Care baby , which actually cries, poops, and needs to be feed. These dolls are apparently so realistic that one girl crashed her car when her baby was crying in the backseat. Now I know I drive like a maniac when Oliver is crying in the backseat. It is distracting, and it actually is distressing because he is a real live baby who really needs to be fed, or changed, or calmed. I would have thrown the doll out the window before I crashed my car because of it. Poor girl, I doubt she will ever, ever have sex now.

No man (or baby) is an island

Oliver had his 2 month check up last Thursday. What this meant was that he was given 4 vaccines, 2 in each thigh. I was totally unprepared for this, and totally unprepared to see my little man in pain. There he was, lying on the exam table cooing and smiling at me, holding my fingers when the first shot was given. His face went red, his mouth contorted, I could see how much it hurt him. He cried, and I cried. We came home to cuddle; he was sore and uncomfortable all day. I felt horrible. I read over the materials I was handed about the vaccines he was given and felt torn. The risks associated with the vaccines are really scary. In some cases, the rate of occurrence of the side affects is higher than the disease itself. I know that vaccines are important for public health, for the safety of the masses; but had I been given the information before hand, and known how painful it was going to be for Oliver, and for me to see him in pain, I would have opted to move us to a remote desert island, where Ollie wouldn’t need to come into contact with other disease ridden humans, or anything awful, painful, or sad really. Mr. Cuerda convinced me that this idea was not plausible or good for Ollie really. But it still seems like quite a nice idea to me. I would love for nothing more than for Oliver to grow up in world where he would never have to experience pain, never see sadness or cruelty, never see inhumane acts. Right now, his world is so lovely, and it will be for a couple of years. Everyone loves him, everywhere we go; babies seem to bring out the wonderful side of human nature. People love to coo at him and smile, talk about him. Perfect strangers are nice to us, help us, and want to talk to us everywhere we go with him. This never happens to adults, people are never that nice to each other. Right now, his world is pure and new, he sees the trees and the grass, hears the birds and the rain; the world is an amazing place for him. At some point that is all going to change, and I worry about how the way the world really is will affect him. I wish there was some way for me to protect him from all of the awful things the world can present us, and keep his world so loving and pure. Ignorance really is bliss, and I can’t think of a better place to live in ignorance than your own remote island. Since I can’t pack up my family and go live on our own little island, I guess I better buck up and prepare myself for the next round of vaccines in 2 months and for how the realities of the world will affect him, and try my best to shelter him for as long as possible.

She was shakey, oh oh oh oh, snapping her fingers

Last month the McCuerda’s drove to Massachusetts for very sad and very happy events. We spent 3 days with Sasha’s great friends
in Somerville
outside of Boston. While we were there I met Shakey , and I haven’t been the same since. What is Shakey you ask? Shakey is delicious shaved chocolate that you shake. What do you shake Shakey on you ask? Well, so far I have shook Shakey on banana bread, banana pancakes, toast with butter, cereal, a spoon of peanut butter, salad, sliced pears, fruit salad, straight in my mouth…you can shake Shakey on anything really and you can make a hot chocolate drink with it in the winter, or now, if you are crazy like that. What can Shakey do for you, you ask? Shakey can file your taxes, clean your gutters, mow your lawn, tune your piano and cut through aluminum cans; Shakey can make you happier, more popular, thinner, wealthier, cure male pattern baldness, make you a better lover, and make peace in the middle east. Everyone needs a little Shakey in their life, who isn’t looking for a way to incorporate more chocolate into their day? Now, with the magic of the internet, Shakey can be yours for the low, low price of $13.50 + shipping and handling. $13.50 is not a lot to pay for a lifetime of happiness. Order yours today, operators are standing by; and don’t forget to throw in an extra canister for the lovely lady who brought Shakey into your life too.

Oliver’s Army

Oliver is going to be 8 weeks old this Friday. It so astounding how different my life is, I think about what I was doing last summer and I hardly recognize that person. I used to love to go dancing with friends at sonotheque, it was the most fun. Now I dance at home with Oliver, and we have the most fun. I used to really like spending evenings at the Map Room, chatting with friends over fantastic pints. Now I spend evenings rocking the little man to sleep after a bottle and a bath. It truly is my favorite way to spend an evening, I love how he falls asleep in my arms, wrapped up so cozy and safe, sucking on his pacifier with his tiny fingers wrapped around my finger. It is so sweet and beautiful. I used to be such a night owl, I would never go to bed before 1:00 A.M. and now I exhaustingly crawl into bed at 9:30, after the little man is sound asleep and tucked into his bassinet. I used to inhale books, consuming them one by one. Now I have a stack of 4 half-way read books that may take me a few years to get through, and that is okay, I really enjoy reading Goodnight Moon to Ollie over and over again. Life changes so fast. You turn a corner and everything is different. All of a sudden you find yourself a parent, without anyone checking your qualifications, and the life you once lived seems so long ago, you can hardly remember it. The past 8 weeks have been a blur, but they have contained some of the most meaningful and important moments of my life. Life is so good with Ollie. I am so thankful for the time I got to spend before meeting Sasha and having Oliver, I hope that all of those experiences I got to have make me a more interesting person and allow me to have something valuable to offer Oliver. I still can’t believe that I am a mother, and that I have this amazing son. I feel like I am going to wake up, back in my tiny apartment in Chicago and this was all some fantastic dream. But it’s all real, and really good.

A reward for crappy traffic

Thanks, Chicago. The city is offering Earth Machine compost bins for sale to residents this Saturday, July 14. The sale will be held at The Center for Green Technology from 10am to Noon. Residents are limited to one bin per household and the cost is $30.

Location: 445 N. Sacramento Blvd.
Phone: 312.746.9642

The McCuerda's are heading up to the fine city by the lake to pick one up. I am so very happy to be going for the weekend, it should be a really nice weekend. Too bad we really won't be able to go to Pitchfork, as Ollie is way too little; but a picnic in the park should be really nice.

Shameless plug...

For the peanut! Oliver is 6 weeks old today and is smiling a real smile! Ugh, he just kills me.

Revelations

I have recently realized that I am a bit of a picky eater. The list of foods that I do not like is a bit larger than I have been prone to confess. No one likes to admit that they may be a bit narrow minded or not so adventurous, and I am afraid that when it comes to food, I am less adventurous than I would like to be. Some of the foods I will not eat, under any circumstances are sausages, various animal organs, olives and mushrooms. Go ahead, shake your head in shame at me, I am used to it. People claim that these are some of the most delicious things on earth, but I am just not going to put them in my mouth, ever. I also really do not like zucchini, summer squash, and loads of meat products. I am not a big fan of heavy, rich or complicated recipes; I prefer my food left in a simpler naked like state, a little grilling with a few herbs is the best way to enjoy meats and veggies. In fact, I have realized that I really don’t like to cook. I love to eat, I love to hang out in the kitchen, drinking wine, chatting with someone who is a great cook, maybe fetching a dish or handing over a spoon; but I really don’t like the actual act of chopping and cooking all that much. I also should admit that my desire for a clean kitchen repels me a bit to dirtying up all of the utensils and pots that cooking involves. Sometimes I get a bit of a bug to make something really delicious, about 2-3 times a year maybe, but normally I am quite content to eat some salad greens, cheese and some fruit. Why revel this you might ask? Well it seems I am in love with and living with an amazing man who lives and breathes food and cooking, it is his one and only real passion in life. I desperately want to share his passion for cooking, and I know he wants that same from me. I am afraid he is a bit disappointed in my ability to be totally content with only dirtying up a knife cutting some cheese and using a plate for some bread and fruit, and being so happy eating that way every night. I am also afraid that if I do not find some way to love cooking he will have some torrid cooking affair, chopping zucchini in the kitchen with another. I do really like baking, and that might be because I am pretty good at it. Maybe if I was more competent at cooking I would enjoy it more. So maybe more exposure will make me love it more, and not see it as such a chore. I sure hope so, as I doubt I will be able to convince my lover that some brie and pears make a delicious meal for nightly eating.

My kind of town

I soulfully miss the city, I miss it like you would miss a best friend. I miss riding my bike through it's streets, if I think about it too much, I could just cry. I can't wait to show it to Ollie. I can't wait to take him to the lake and to have another date with Mr.Cuerda at Socca.

Too funny

Oliver is hanging out in his gdiapers, because it is too hot for clothes. He cracks me up, he is so cute & funny!

And then there were three

Oliver Vance Cuerda came into the world on May 25th and the McCuerda’s became a little family. We have been home from the hospital for 2 weeks today, and what an amazing blur it has been. I have realized that I love the little man more than I ever thought possible; and Mr. Cuerda is the most incredible dad. I have also become prone to being totally insane and worried about absolutely everything, checking on him while he is sleeping every 15 minutes, making sure the doors are locked at least 3 times during the night; you think you are so rational until you have a child, and then the insanity sets in. I can’t believe we made such a perfect, cute baby, I find myself just staring at him, it is so surreal. The sleep deprivation is really rough, it’s hard when he cries and I am not sure what to do for him sometimes, and I want to call the pediatrician at least 4 times a day, though so far I have only called 3 times. All of the rocking, walking and rough days when he is not sleeping ensure that I can’t eat, making the baby weight come off really quickly! My hormones seem to be leveling out after the birth, I am not crying 3 times a day over I don’t really know what anymore, I definitely feel a bit more normal now, tired, but better. Keeping up with the house, laundry and yard feels totally overwhelming! If I had a fairy godmother I would ask her to please mow the lawn. I have come up with the idea that the best shower gift ever would be for a couple to be able to register for a month of a house cleaning service, how awesome would that be? Mr. Cuerda has completely been keeping the house together and making sure I eat at least one meal a day, I couldn’t imagine doing any of this with out him; he really is the most amazing person. We have started a new feeding schedule for Ollie, that inherently creates a sleeping schedule for him as well, I think it will take at least a full week for it really to start to come together and start getting a routine down. It takes time to figure these things out, but he is so wonderful, I just can’t wait to watch him explore and discover everything the world has to offer. It has been exhausting and miraculous 2 weeks, and I already can’t remember what life was like before Ollie. We have such great adventures to come; this is going to be really good. Oh-and if you ever have a baby, I highly recommend picking up either a Premaxx Sling
, or a Hotsling
, it will save your life.

“Baby, no one could have ever told me bout this”

It’s a week past my due date this weekend. It’s okay really, but like Tom Petty says, the waiting is the hardest part. I am really ready to meet our baby, I just have to muster up a bit more patience and wait until it is ready to come out into the world. Friday Mr. Cuerda and I went to see Shrek 3 at the drive in and I felt my first contraction sitting there in the car, I was holding his hand, and as the contraction came on, I just started squeezing, apparently quite hard, though I was unaware of anything going on at the time. It didn’t hurt so much as take me by surprise. I had no idea what a contraction could possibly feel like, and I started having this building gas bubble in my abdomen, that wasn’t releasing, and my natural reaction was to tense up. We decided to leave, the movie was almost over, but the drive in was packed and we didn’t want to get stuck there. I felt another one, and was a bit more prepared, I was able to relax my abdomen and it was not bad at all. We pulled over so I could stand, and that made a huge difference. I had three contractions in a little more than an hour, and then…nothing. I had one again yesterday while I was walking, but it was quite light. I have an appointment Thursday morning to see what is going on. I really hope to have the baby by then, if not I will have to make a date to be induced, which I really don’t want to happen. I am not much more uncomfortable than I have been, I can deal with it, I know most first time babies tend to be at least 10 days late. It would just be nice to know when. Perhaps if I stop listening to NPR and CNN all day it might decide the world really is an okay place and decide to come out.

What do you need?

Browsing around the Pew Research Center’s site, (yes, I like to look through demographics and statistics for fun) I stumbled across this article
about what American’s consider necessities. I feel shameful about this list. There is nothing, nothing on it which a human actually needs to sustain life. That is what I would define as a necessity. I don’t need anything on that list; in fact, I have lived without many of those things for quite a long time, and can get along quite well with out any of the items on the list. Though, if I want to keep my current job, having a laptop is quite helpful, maybe a necessity for the position, but not for living. Even a car is not a necessity, it is very nice, but if we could not afford one, we would be okay; there are other means of getting around. Water, food, shelter…these things are necessities. Indoor plumbing, books, arts/music, education, healthcare, some form of transport, a bike perhaps, are essentials for a better quality of life. A microwave and flat screen TV are not necessary, and never will be. I am just so ashamed of the gluttonous nature of our culture, it is just so sad. I wonder if the American’s surveyed even realize that there are many people in the world who have, do and will continue to live without any of these items.

mmmm, avocados

Amazing lunch today, avocados sliced on warm toasted beer bread and drizzled with a sweet balsamic glaze. Life is so damn good sometimes.

The breakdown

Last night it happened. I was having the worst night of my pregnancy and what I feared most, getting a migraine while I was pregnant and unable to take anything, happened. It was not the most intense migraine I have ever had, but it was bad. It had been hovering about for close to 30 hours, making me feel really quite bad for a bit, but last night it peaked and I just thought, I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to be pregnant anymore. All I could take was one regular strength Tylenol, taking Tylenol for a migraine is a bit like putting a band-aid on a cut that really needs stitches. I felt bad for complaining; I had been on a good “I am so damn miserable” streak for about 15 hours, so more complaining was feeling like too much, I was tired of hearing me complain, so I am sure Mr. Cuerda was! But I really could not take it. I came downstairs about 10:30 last night and asked Mr. Cuerda to go on his first late night run to the store during my pregnancy. I needed some Reed’s ginger ale
and some rainbow sherbet. I hovered over the kitchen sink, in the dark, with a cold washcloth on my head, standing in the hot breeze waiting for him to return with that sweet sweet elixir. He came back with the Reeds, some ginger chews and sorbet, which was actually a bit more cooling then the sherbet, and I sat in the dark slowly sipping the ginger ale for about an hour. I sipped on some sorbet and let the warm ginger work its magic, I could feel it releasing the tension and making the nausea go away so slowly and so peacefully. Oh, sweet relief was coming. It took until about 3:30 in the morning for me to feel almost totally better; I laid in bed sucking on ginger chews and still sipping ginger ale for quite a while. I am up and feeling much more human for a big fat hormone laden invasion of the body snatchers very pregnant person! So I think I am going to go for a swim today and stock up on some more Reeds, I can sense that it will become quite a necessity during this final countdown. Being pregnant really hasn’t been that bad, I can’t say that it has been the most wonderful experience ever, and I probably have had it pretty easy. That being said, I am pretty sure I am entitled to at least a couple of breakdowns throughout the experience, I think I should really save it for labour!

The temporary teetotaler bakes

What does a big fat very pregnant person do when her fridge is over run with beer that she can not consume? She makes beer bread of course! Between Mr. McCuerda’s no-knead bread recipe and my new found beer bread recipe, baking bread is really too easy to not do it. I made 2 loaves today, one for us to gobble up because our instant gratification urges are just to strong to deny ourselves the pleasure of fresh warm bread with butter, and one to freeze for later enjoyment. So here is the recipe, go make it now, because you know that you want it, and it will be the easiest thing you have ever done:

3 cups flour (I used 1½ white and 1½ whole wheat)
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
12 oz of delicious beer (or 16 if you use ½ wheat flour)

Mix, bake for 45 minutes in a 375 oven.

If you have an amazing, and I mean amazing imagination, you can add herbs, spices, and cheeses to your bread to make many different tasty loaves of easy self satisfying enjoyment. It is not the same kind of self satisfying enjoyment one gets from drinking a sweet delicious beer, but it is damn good. God, only 3 more weeks to go. 9 months is truly a long time to go with out the sweet taste of a Kasteel Bruin. Bottoms up.

Me first and the gimmie gimmies

As someone who is about to become a parent, I have recently delved into the world of parental blogs. I see it as my duty to research the imminent task at hand, to try to learn some wisdom from others experiences, and to try to prepare myself for the changes my life will be taking. I am often reading about the topic of rude kids, mean kids, bullies, and punks and what to do about them. And I am finding that more often than not, most parents are feeling that there is nothing to do, or what can they do? It is just a part of playground society, and worst of all, as one woman was told as she tried to talk to a bully’s mother, that boys will be boys. What in the hell does that even mean? Letting boys behave as bullies, because they are boys, is so incredibly detrimental, as we are raising boys who may go join fraternities or take girls out on dates some day, and do we really want them engaging in these activities with the mindset that they can do what they want because they are boys? Boys are humans, not some sort of special species who can be cruel for the sake of it, they don’t get some sort of “get out of mankind” pass. When do we expect them to learn to be kind, tolerant and gentle if we do not teach them? And what does gender have to with being a decent person? It seems to me, that when it comes to dealing with bullies and mean kids, there is lack of accountability going on, a fear of holding another person responsible for the type of person they are molding. Why would we not approach a parent (or the nanny, as they also have a huge role in raising a child) at the park and say “hey, your kid is shoving the other kids around,” and why would we not be appalled if that parent did nothing to stop that behavior? There are enough bullies in the world, why do we want to let this continue, and why do we want to let another person’s child be a bully to our kid, simply because they are not a decent enough human being to teach their kids how to be kind? Perhaps Hillary was right; maybe it does take a village. We are not perfect, and we can not be expected to raise perfect people, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to raise our children to be better people than we are. It is hard work, and might involve a bit of intervention from others from time to time. I fear that the instant gratification nature of our culture leads many to poor parenting. The responsibility involved in being a parent is just so massive. But like many things in American culture, babies are something we want, they seem to be a right and the perfect accessory for the American Dream; but perhaps we aren’t really interested in investing ourselves truly to the task. We treat parenting as some sort of venue to display our economic status, investing in outrageous strollers and baby bags, pursuing the prestigious private schools and summer camps, but not investing in the child’s qualities, or paying much attention to the type of human we are actually putting out into the world. There is no litmus test for potential parents, but there really should be. Or at the very least, some sort of required reading laying out the massive task at hand and a reading comprehension exam at the end, where potential parents sign a waiver that they understand the full scope of their responsibilities and will not give way to materialism over creating a good person to be a part of the human race. Being a parent is the most important thing a person could ever do. I don’t know that there are very many of us who are truly worthy of such a task, I doubt that I am. I don’t know that I am smart enough, kind enough, patient enough, interesting enough to have anything to offer to a new human, but here I am, pregnant, and biology doesn’t seem to inquire about these things either. I do know that being a poor student eliminates the possibility that keeping up with the trendy consumerism would be a factor in my being a mother. So that means I will be doing my best to make sure that my child will not be a bully at the park, that it will be kind, and fair; to realize that there is enough to go around, to be tolerant and gentle. I think these are the most important qualities a human can have, I know I do not posses these qualities all of the time, but I try, and I also want my child to be a better person than I am. I don’t mean to sound self-righteous. I, in no way think I am somehow going to do some amazing job at being a parent, I just want to try to create some sort of goal for this massive task I am about to embark in, and to acknowledge that I do realize it’s importance. I do plan on intervening when my child is bulling others; I see it as one of the most important times to intervene. I also imagine I would intervene when other children are also being bullies; it seems that somebody should step up and express the importance of being nice. I think we all want to live in world with nice people, it can’t just be a pipe dream, we actually can have an impact. When it comes to children, it is not as if this magically happens without our guidance, it also means that more people actually have to start acting this way to each other as well, which means that materialism would actually have to move down on our list of priorities and humanitarism would have to move up a little higher. But if we really wanted to do anything about bullies it would be worth the sacrifice. Since nobody is ever going to care what kind of stroller your parents bought you, or what kind of preschool you attended, what kind of person you are is all that is important. It is all that matters really. I hope I am up for this task, and if my child is ever a bully, please, somebody stop it.

Sweet stuff really

For your listening pleasure .

Frustration, then elation

“If you have spent too much energy trying to be socially acceptable, today you might finally realize that you cannot fit into the shape required for the current situation. Others may see you as uncooperative now, but that's not your intent. You know how you feel and just want to make your point succinctly. Remember, once you've done your homework, you really don't have to try so hard.” Daily Horoscope for Aquarius

When I was about 13 I saw a special on PBS about water birthing. I knew then that was for me. It seemed so calming, and natural, so soothing. I couldn’t imagine giving birth any other way. Now that I am 33 and 6 weeks away from giving birth, I have found that making your wishes come true is not as easy as we would like. Having autonomy over your body, having choices about your birthing experience, and having those choices supported can be a frustrating experience when birth is viewed as a medical procedure, one wrought with liabilities. I had an appointment with my ob/gyn this morning; I brought in my birthing plan and a list of questions to go over with her. I was totally disheartened as I watched her expression when I let her know that I did not want to be given an epidural, but would like to explore what other pain management options were available, should I decide that I would maybe want something. She looked at me as if I had told her that I am tired of breathing with my lungs, and would like to grow gills and breathe under water. She has only had experience with epidurals, and had never heard of somebody not wanting one. The hospital where I will be delivering offers water labouring, but it is not something my doctor is familiar with, and therefore, I was told that it would not be an option in any way. She is also more prone to induce labour earlier than what is recommended, which was not only scary information, but let me know that she prefers births to be a bit more conducive to her schedule, than what might be more conducive to my body, and my baby. I left feeling so sad, so frustrated, and so unsupported. Wanting to have as natural childbirth as possible is scary, I am in no way disillusioned about the pain I will be experiencing, and I honestly do not know how I will handle it. But I do know that if our bodies could not handle it, we would not get pregnant. Childbirth is something that is a part of being female, and a part of a life cycle, it will (most likely) not kill me. Being supported by my doctor in my desire to want a natural childbirth experience is incredibly important, it is also incredibly important to have childbirth be treated as something which is a natural event for humans, and not a medical procedure, requiring loads of interventions. When I got home, I told Sasha what the doctor had said about the questions we had, about the desires we wanted. He called a different clinic to see if they were taking new patients and if they accepted my insurance. I was feeling a bit reluctant to switch doctors at 33 weeks, but these last 6-7 weeks are also the most important of my entire pregnancy. As it turns out, this clinic not only is taking new patients, accepts my insurance, but they have a mid-wife, a fantastic one, whom I got to chat with about my birthing plan and have her not only support it, but be enthusiastic about it! She is very experienced in water labouring and birthing, is knowledgeable in alternative pain methods, and fully supports natural childbirths, as long as there are no complications. If there are complications, I know that I’ll have to change my way of thinking, I know that nothing is certain and problems could arise. Having a mid-wife in a hospital allows for interventions should they be necessary, but most importantly, should everything continue to go as smoothly as it is, I’ll be able to retain my autonomy and deliver our baby according to our desires, and have those desires be fully supported. Now I can breathe, and work on my meditation/relaxation techniques so that the whole mid-west won’t hear me screaming my head off!

Just a reminder...

The sequel...

Snakes in Champaign. Samuel L. Jackson, I am talking to you.

Spring Breakin'

The paign is quiet, and I love it. Though most of the fun people have gone away, which leaves the bocce party we should be having a bit sparse. The few people who are here makes this place feel a bit like an episode of freaks and geeks, being both, it is perfect for me. I have never enjoyed the gym more, and I don’t have the urge to shove daft people on Green Street. I wish it could be like this all of the time! Maybe I am too old to really enjoy living on a campus, or maybe I am just not the kind of person who should be living on a big 10 campus, with the greeks and the super fans. The weather has been superb this week, the grass is green, and Mr. McCuerda has made awesome progress on the garden, I think the planting will be fun, I know I can’t wait for the veggies and strawberries! The rain is leaving some good time for painting and organizing, which is much needed and zen like. It would be swell if it could be spring break around here once a month. That would be perfect. The kids will all be back on Monday, sunburned and wearing their Daytona ’07 gear. It would be great if many spring break locals were a bit more like the Bermuda triangle…

Wherefore art thou art?

Last weekend I decided to head to Chicago to get in some quality schlepping and museum going while I still have the time to be a little self indulgent and quiet. I have 2 months left in my life to have my choices be just about me and I chose to spend few leisurely hours in the MCA . While I normally thoroughly enjoy immersing my senses in this amazing space, I left feeling so frustrated with the Rudolf Stingel exhibit and the state of modern art installations in general. While Stingel is very tactile, his installations focused on leaving the creation of the art to the viewer. While this can be brilliant in other manifestations, his attempt felt lazy. In the main hall, Stingel put up panels of styrofoam covered in aluminum foil, for museum goers to doodle on. It seemed to be lacking thought, inspiration, and when I go to a museum to see art, I really want to experience something that I am not capable of, I want to see something provocative, something that caused the artist a bit of agony to produce; not walls full of “Katie was here” or doodled peace symbols. Further into his exhibit, Stingel hung a large piece of sand colored carpeting on the wall for viewers again to doodle on with their fingers, when asked, the museum’s volunteer tour guide admitted that carpet came from Empire , it was just so ridiculous to me, so uninspired, like he was too tired to really think of something. What is most unbelievable to me, is that this exhibit will be heading to the Whitney. It seems to make a statement about what the masses consider genius, or about how lazy our culture has become, that we don’t really even expect our artists to agonize over their works or push the limits of the human mind. It is just so sad to me that these are the kind of works that major galleries are taking notice of, that this is what the population will go to admire. The world is full of starving artists, struggling over their works, having their pieces inflict such anguish upon them, it must be such a blow to the gut to have some artist get the main hall in the MCA and hang a cheap piece of carpet on it.

Ugh, people just suck sometimes.

Yesterday, I stumbled upon this posting in the Chambana craigslist:
“fine(Cute) English Bulldog Puppy
Reply to: comm-279116464@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-02-16, 1:17PM CST
awaiting any lovely home for rehoming”

Not that the McCuerda’s are in the market for a puppy right now, but I have grown up with English Bulldogs, I LOVE them, in an over the top unhealthy sort of way, so I naturally sent an email inquiring about said puppy and if a meeting could be arranged. I must say, that I was instantly visualizing bringing home the puppy, playing, chewing, cuddling, house breaking; all things uber-cute puppy oriented. I was stoked, and spent the next 24 hours thinking of almost nothing other than adopting this little guy and watching him grow up and torture our cat. I received this response today (with the insanely cute picture):
Hi there
Good Day and thanks for the interest in my puppy name Kelly.Kelly is
13weeks old and she is AKC registered,she would be coming along pedigree
and vet checked and including her coupons.She is very sociable with kids
and
other house hold pets(both indoors and outdoor pets.
I came from 100 N Front St Okabena Minnesota 56161 /United States to
Cameroon for a missionary
visit here and discovered that the climate here in Cameroon is too harsh
for Kelly,So I have complaint to the airport here in Cameroon and they have
giving me a free flight ticket for the puppy to be shipped any where and
that it would take ok.But the insurance company here in Cameroon has
charged the amount of $350 and the missionary that I worked with has raised
$100 so if you can come up with the remaining $250 then get back to me as
soon as possible with your full names,phone number,house address,name of
nearest airport from your home so that I can take it to the airlines and
ask them the flight duration that is the maximum time for the puppy to get
to you either at your house or at the airport,I mean which ever way is
convenient . As for the $250 you would be sending the money to Rev/father
Nkwenti Eric
which is the care taker of the missionary where I worked and also because I
have not made a national identity card or drivers license here in Cameroon
and I have only my drivers license from Minnesota that I came with and my
husbands own ok.
I am not intending to give Kelly to any kind of person,so if you would
promise me that you would take good care of Kelly and that you would
provide me with recent pictures of her when you get her then get back to me
as soon as possible,God Bless you thanks.
Regards.
Beth Mcnab

It’s a total scam, and a bad bizarre one at that. I did a little search for Cameroon Puppy Scams, and these scams are being run all of the time, and the sad part it, there are actually people who send the money. Humanity sucks sometimes.

If only Cyrus Vance could meow

“Human rights is the soul of our foreign policy, because human rights is the very soul of our sense of nationhood.”
Jimmy Carter (as told to him by Annabelle, the feline)

My pregnant mind has been experiencing the most bizarre dreams I have ever had, but this one I just had takes the cake. I can not wrap my head around it! I had a dream that my cat was a White House staffer during the Carter administration. She was Jimmy’s foreign relations advisor on Cuba. There she was, rubbing her head on the corner of his desk in the oval office, when she hopped up on the desk and spoke to him at length about how the U.S should restructure its policies with Cuba. She was the inspiration for shaping his views about our relations with Cuba. She was totally cat like throughout the whole discussion, wanting him to rub her chin, and mewing. She could not talk, she spoke to him telepathically, and he listened, understood and took her very seriously. How bizarre is that? I wonder what a dream interpreter would say.

Yay for snow days!

The amazing Sasha with my Sunday morning snowman. Bliss.

I just wanna dance

“The only true currency in this bankrupt world... is what you share with someone else when you're uncool.” Lester Bangs

I just want to dance. What better way to get rid of the winter blahs. I have been dying to take my ever expanding belly dancing; I need to get my groove on. I think I am going to have to make a mixed tape for baking in the kitchen.

This is the playlist I have in my mind:
James Brown : The Payback(I don’t know karate, but I know crazy) (Really, if James Brown doesn’t make you want to get your groove on, you might be dead inside)
Blur: Woo Hoo
Cheryl Lynn:To be Real
Justin Timberlake: Rock your body (Uh huh, yeah, I said it)
Chemical Brothers: Galvanize
Abba: Dancing Queen (Don’t deny it)
Maceo Parker : Pass the Peas
Beastie Boys: Hey Ladies
Notorious b.i.g.: Hypnotize
Outkast: B.O.B
Blondie: Heart of Glass
Deee-Lite: Groove Is In the Heart
Depeche Mode: Just Can’t Get Enough
Modest Mouse: Shit Luck
Duran Duran: Girls on Film
The Cure: Just like heaven
N.E.R.D.: She Wants to Move
They Might Be Giants: Damn Good Times
Blur: Girls & Boys
Beastie Boys: Prof. Booty

So this has made me think about really fun dance songs, I need to start a list, and make my own ultimate dance album, maybe I could make millions…

Cast on my knitters

The red scarf project sponsored by the Orphan Foundation of America is one of the kindest human acts I have come across. I can’t knit, or crochet, I would love to learn, just so that I could be able to participate. I do know wonderful people who can, so perhaps they can knit a scarf for me. It is just so great to be part of the human race when there are organizations like this in the world. I am wondering if there would be a way to make baked goods for care packages as well, that I can do!

Soy Verde, this ones for you.

In honor of the squid jerky snacks consumed on New Years Eve, there are some edible squid jerky postcards. You can send everyone bits of slightly gross fun from your castle by the sea! Too bad no one we know speaks Japanese, the site looks outrageous. I am not sure if they can be ordered outside of Japan, but you can apparently pick some up at the Susami fishing cooperative. Now we just need some more Pocky for men.

Greener Acres

I have abandoned my fine city by the lake for the drier digs of Champaign, Illinois, and life here is pretty grand. Sasha and I have a fabulous house with a great yard and garden, washer AND dryer and a dishwasher, and for the rent we pay we would be in a tiny 1 bedroom in Chicago with dodgy coin laundry somewhere in the building. As soon as my finals were over (I somehow managed to pull off an A in microecon???) we had one last dinner at Socca, and bid farewell to Chicago. Will I miss my city? Of course, but after one finds herself to be carrying her lovers baby, priorities tend to change, and the unappealing thoughts of lugging a stroller up the ratty stairs of the el station, being too poor to afford more spacious housing and not having green space for children to explore safely makes one ecstatic to be heading to the family friendly haven of inexpensive central Illinois to finish up school. Life changes so rapidly sometimes, but it seems that is all a part of growing up and the inevitable will occur whether or not you think you are ready. Champaign, despite being totally land locked, is not too bad. There are fantastic resources for students who are parents, there are decent cafes and restaurants, and there are loads of great people around. In fact, that is the best part about Champaign, the plethora of very cool, smart people, although sadly, two of my very favorite of those cool, smart people have left recently for their life’s grown-up events. Working from our home is better in Champaign, the coffee smells better in our kitchen and the sunlight that pours in is so cozy. I have joined the campus gym, it has this fantastic pool that is great for feeling weightless, and I have recently purchased a maternity swim suit, so I plan to take advantage of having access to a pool as much as possible. I have even been learning how to bake bread, from scratch! Such domestic bliss! Sometime in February we want to host a “Please help us with baby stuff!” party, and I have high hopes that our friends will want to pitch in a get a new Honda Fit for us!

Oh the sweet life, it is just so good.