Candy-Can!

At last all my pampering paid off! My “Candy-can” (Echinopsis trichocereus x ‘Cherry Red’)blooms spectacularly! Each blossom is about the size of an English teacup and smells faintly of strawberries.

 

The fuss I create over my cacti is a testament to my anal retentiveness. In winter, I blanket each specimen to protect it from frost, being certain to remove the coverings during daylight to permit adequate sunlight and ventilation. Since I'd be bored with nothing to fuss over during the summer, I rig up artificial shade to keep the plants from cooking under the intense New Mexico sun.

 

I wish that all of my attentiveness would pay off in the form of startlingly lovely photographs to match the blossoms, but no such luck. So, here’s a pretty picture ganked from my folk’s website:

Post-Birthday Gratitude

For the past month I’ve been playing with my birthday gift--a generous contribution to gardening budget (thank you Tennisfiend!). Every fall and spring, I spend several hours daily tending to my beloved rock and flower gardens.

This fall, I was too wiped out for my ritual devotions, resulting in the mass extinction of some of my lovelier specimens. So, I was especially delighted with the gift and have been working overtime restore and improve my neglected garden. Unfortunately, the New Mexico climate has shifted back into “hot mode,” so I am exiled indoors for the next several months.

May I continue briefly with some post-birthday happiness? Much appreciation to for lunch and gardening support. Thank you and family for the lovely blue flowers and enigmatic poem. And congratulations to for the history making birthday remembrance! And finally, word to the Moosh for the DVDs. I have been aching for a copy Charisma for nearly a year now and the remastered, digitized, pimped-out new version of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos, brought tears to my eyes. Thank you, all!

Happy Birthday Brotherkurt

Make that happy belated birthday! brotherkurt’s birthday was a few weeks ago--April 12 to be exact, but it took some time for the party to catch up with him. This weekend’s celebration includes two days and two nights of gaming, involving some intriguing homemade board games. Tonight was mellower that Friday night which involved over thirty avid gamers and (I think) four separate games (as reported by Ewbliette).

I arrived just after the cookout, and had the opportunity to witness the last piece of venison disappear down the gullet of the neighborhood gourmand. I compensated by scarfing down numerous slabs of delicious (salty!) garlic bread followed by four perfectly ripe watermelon segments. Yum!

Under a back porch illuminated by hundreds of tiny orange lights, Rodeyo, Lizard Light and Countessa conducted an animated review of their insane childhood adventures. New Mexico rules—when your ten and firecrackers and bottle rockets are legal, there is no limit to the stuff you can blow up. I am personally amazed that I managed to survive my youth with both eyes and all my fingers and toes intact.

Later, Ewbliette and I moved indoors (smokers!) and I overheard the following snippet from a homemade game being played at the kitchen table, “So, the young blonde woman is now naked, running through the hall and you have to roll to see if she’ll swallow….” Whoa. After an hour discussing Brotherkurt’s home décor (his main bathroom has adorable handpainted fishies festooning the walls!), my brain died and I went home. Tennisfiend, who liked my fashionable new blouse, insisted on taking my photo to send to his family. Unfortunately, the flash revealed a bit much of Bestfiend, particularly my navel and JC Penney undergarments. But I liked my goofy smile, so voila!


The paparazzi effect.
Needless to say, I exchanged my blouse for an opaque cousin, so Moscow was spared the indignity of my Bali and belly.

Spelunking with Ewbliette

I paid a visit to Ewbliette tonight to drop off accoutrements for this weekend’s gaming party. She and Brotherkurt took an exciting trip to Carlsbad Caverns over the Easter break, and I found myself showered with Carlsbad goodies.

She bought me the coolest petroglyph tee shirt (co-opted by Tennisfiend!) and a miniature replica of the main cavern complete with built in eerie glow. I also walked away with a bunch of trail mix, minus the bat guano, of course.

Yay! What a great friend. We spent most of the time gabbing about her caving experience, which included cave etiquette. I suppose “Don’t poop in the cave” is a no-brainer, but I was surprised that the rangers confiscate chewing gum and only permit plain bottled water in the park. We discussed every horror story ever written about caves and on the drive home I imagined myself editing a book on subterranean horrors. Alas!

Under Construction!

Please excuse the mess! My life is under construction. I am pleased to announce that and I are expecting a baby boy this August! I will be trying to catch up with everyone on lj in the next few weeks. I also hope to post my back log of half-written entries that have been accumulating since the end of February.

XOXO
Bestfiend

ETA:Many posts were maked private prior to my announcement.

Ultrasound Results!

Click for larger image.

Here he is! His head is on the RHS and the white blob hovering above, center is his little fist. I'd post the second pic, but I can't figure out excatly where everything is!

The doctor said everything is as it should be, except I lost some weight. Fortunately that's not a problem for Malootka*. He's estimated to weigh exactly one whole pound. Yay!
*Malootka is an affectionate Russian word meaning "tiny one."

We haven't picked out an official name yet, although a few favorites are:

Timoor (Timmy)
Artyome (Tommy/Arty)
Gleb
Oleg
Liev
Ruslan (Rus)
Kuriel
Valentin
Vasilly

mom

Mother warned me to never have children. Repeatedly.

When I welcomed by son into the world in 2006, Mom was one of my birthpartners. She held my left foot,   wiped my forehead and fed the nursing staff and doctors gourmet snackfood.

No House Guests, Please

I've been a cranky hormonal mess. In November, the acne freight train,  dropped off twin parcels of cheek pimples and a load of painful chin bumps. I'm better now, though still freaked out over using anything but the softest rain water on my face for fear of baby contamination.  Too much in the news about autism and other developmental problems for me to use shampoos with sulfates or even shaving cream for my legs.

Oh, no! I think that I just realized what's making me irritable! Lack of 21st century chemicals. Well, after baby is born and I've nursed him for a year I'll  go rub my body in Pantene and Twinkies.

So, last night Egor told me that he wants his mother to come here and stay for a few months of my pregnancy. My first reply was, "Oh, hell no!"  I am so totally spazzed out over the slightest thing that I can't imagine having to get the house ready for a visit plus entertain his mother,  in Russian, for two months. My mom is handling me with kid gloves, Patricia shovels big buckets of sweet sugar on me, and I'm still a mess.

But, E said how much it would help me and him. He said I needed her and most of all,  it would mean so much to his mom to be a part of my pregnancy. I cried, I wept, but I eventually said, "Okay, if you really think we need it." 

He called and gave them the green light.

I could not sleep that night. I really, really really did not want his mom here. At all. Until after the baby is born. I can't even put my reason in words, it just feels like it would be too much stress. Stress for me, not so bad, but stress on my baby is unacceptable. So I cried and cried and pleaded and he called the family and told them it would be too hard for me. Everything is okay, now. But I get the impression that they don't understand why I don't want company. I just don't. I'm not that person. I am a happy book reading, TV watching, writing little hermit.

Amnio Results, For Real This Time

Results were supposed to be in this Wednesday. No results. Waited till Thursday to annoy the clinic, “Results today, for sure, Mrs. Fiend.” Ack! I worked on the computer with the phone perched six inches away from me. At 10:00 a telemarketer called. I replied viciously, venting six years of the aggravation, frustration and nastiness that I stockpile exclusively for people trying to sell me crap over the phone.

At noon another marketing company called wanting me to answer a survey. I fumed. I decided that those bastards from Ikea sold my phone number despite my written request to withhold it. I will send them such a vituperative letter. Anyway, at 12:30 Tennisfiend called, “Are the results in?” Poor sweet guy, I was cross with him. Ten minutes later, my Mom called, “How are you doing?” Poor woman, I was practically hysterical with her.

To empower myself, I bounced phone calls back and forth to Women’s Medical for the next two hours. At three thirty, a harassed receptionist called me to say that the fax arrived, and that all the results were normal. No Down’s Syndrome, Trisonomy 13 or other serious birth defects.

What a relief! I was so grateful and effusive with my thank-yous that I almost made the receptionist feel less annoyed. At last I feel like this is a “real” pregnancy. After three miscarriages, I can't begin to describe my joy over the positive test results. Now to make amends to my loved ones and order a truckload of maternity clothes. Yay!

How Not To

I’m aggravated. Sometimes I wish I could post a little list of helpful hints to guide people as they are searching for how to help me when something stressful and important hits my life.
So here’s my little bit of bile:

1. Please do not tell me how worried you are for me. Suck it up. I am already worried enough for both of us. Most of the time I can find a good mental spot where I am calm. Telling me you’re so worried for me really shoves everything in my face and increases my stress level. Instead, ask me if you can do something to help. 2. Don’t deliberately time a major flake out over your own enduring problems to coincide with my difficult time. Weeping over the phone to me about your life sucks out my energy. You don’t need to dramatize some other aspect of your life to compete with my problems. It’s disrespectful and selfish. Sheesh. I'm so bitchy, I can barely stand myself. That’s all.