Okay, first of all, I haven't checked, but I don't think I blogged about the email I got from the AMD, did I? If so, either be prepared to read it again or skim ahead. The email was actually from his assistant. And I got it while I was over there in Houston and at a time when things were really busy and I didn't really deal with it much because I didn't have the time or energy (or mental capacity) to really put it anywhere. But now that I'm "home," I've put some more thought into it.
So, he said that they had to pass on my MS because today's market hinges so much on "high-concept." Maybe you know what that means, but I had to Google it. So, I guess it means "easily summarized." If the market wants that, he's right, my novel is not the novel for this market. I mean, it takes me more than two sentences (and really three or four to do the job well) to summarize this novel. I don't think that makes it a bad novel (though I don't really love it, personally), just that it's really not right for the time. Part of me WANTS to feel rejected. I sort of want to use this as an excuse to give up and do other things. But another part, the writer gut part, wags its long scaly finger at me and tells me to get back to work. And that's what I'm doing.
I wrote the AMD (well, his assistant) back and asked if they were now accepting email queries and he said yes (this wasn't the case in the past). This only makes things better for me in the end because it means no freakin' huge ass MSS to send to who knows how many people. I mean, if I were still in the States, I might send paper ANYway because I understand the tactile/tangible element that paper brings, but DUDE, the expense of sending it over there knowing that it's only going to be shredded in the end? Yikes. So, since AMD asked for my other project, I'm in the throes of revising it. As soon as I get 60 pages (and I'm not far now), I'm gonna send it to Boudy and get his reaction before sending it on to the AMD (and while waiting for AMD's response, I'm going to revise like a maniac just in case he asks for the full MS). If that doesn't work, I have the business card of an agent who said she'd like to see my stuff. Now, this isn't an agent to whom I've actually spoken but rather one that my friend (N) from Houston talked to after she (the agent) turned his (N's) project down. Can you believe that? He pitched my shit after she turned his down! What a buddy!!!
I don't know what has gotten into me. I have so much going on in my life what with the new kidling brewing in my gut, and the farm research/obsession... I just figured the writing would take a back seat. But, I think the rejection of the novel has freed me to actively look for representation on my REAL work... My memoir work... The stuff I REALLY wanted/want to publish after all. It's almost like the novel fiasco forced me to work on other things so that they'd all be put away when it was time for the memoir stuff to take the stage. Hmmm...
Now for the catch up part... So, after the race, Rach and I went to see Slumdog Millionaire... I can't even express how hard it ROCKED, so I won't try. I will say that Rach summed it up when she said, "Thanks for making me see that. I wouldn't have gone on my own and I'm really glad to have seen it."
Afterward, we went to my fave wing place cuz I was jonesin' (read: pregnant/craving) for some wings (even though I had just split a huge buttery popcorn with Rach) and she wanted to watch the Steelers/Ravens game. We get there and order just in time for something exciting to happen on the screen behind me and my quiet, calm friend turns into this screaming maniac. Where did THAT come from? It was so weird. I mean, on the one hand, she never looked cuter. Her face was all flushed, her eyes all a-twinkle, her smile wide and bright and she just freakin' glowed. On the other hand, because the TVs weren't up very loud, her expression of excitement got her no small number of shut-up looks from the tables around us. She, of course, was oblivious, but I saw them. Part of me wanted to run (the part that actually put my menu up to hide my face). The other part of me wanted to jump over the partition and slam my fist into this bitch that was giving Rachel a dirty look. Why shouldn't someone enjoy their team's success over a pile of steaming bird carcass? If they didn't want that to be the reaction, they wouldn't have like 8 big flat screen TVs showing the Steelers game, now would they? But, I didn't do either. I sent a dirty look right back at the bitch and enjoyed my wings.
But, by the time I had gorged myself with junk food, I was exhausted. My original plan had been to walk down to Half-Priced Books and browse, but since I had already bought a butt-load of books and knew I probably wouldn't have room for more, I asked Rach if we might just go back to the hotel at half-time so she could watch the game in our room. Part of me wanted to protect her from the fuckers in the resto, but the other, selfish, part of me wanted to go back and play on the internet so I wouldn't have to listen to the game and try to fall asleep.
I came back to the room in the last few minutes of the fourth quarter and heard Rachel SCREAM. Then, she said, "You must be a good luck charm." The Steelers had made a touchdown right when I got back. It is usually the opposite with me. That's one of the reasons I stopped watching football: Every time I root for a team, they lose. Every time. Glad to know my luck has changed.
The next day (MLK day), Morgan was off from school and I had told Shannen Morgy could hang out with Rach and me. So, I went over there early and did a load of laundry (and tried to do some of Shannen's but her damn dryer HATES me). Afterward, we went back to the hotel to pick up Rach so we could head up to Cypress and visit a friend I hadn't met yet. You know how Rach and I met on CharlotteMommies.com? Well, this chick is a CM, too and has been my Myspace buddy for a long time (matter of fact, I still can't remember how we "met"... maybe I saw she was living in Houston and started bothering her?). Anywhoo, I HAD told her that I'd give her a half hour notice, but I didn't tell her that it would be through the Internet. So, when I showed up in Cypress at my fave TexMex resto up there (La Hacienda off of Telge... the old fave of me and my long lost friend B, may she RIP) and called E (yes, ANOTHER E), she was like, "Huh?" So, I was like, "I'm here. Come eat chips." And she did. And it was good. Sorry to be so Biblical, but that's the way it was. For all these months, I have been laughing at her hilarious comments and her spunky, hip emails, I had expected her to have a spotlight and a microphone that followed her stand-up act around in real life, but no, she was just a normal pregnant chick (well, from the front... from the back she doesn't even look pregnant, god-DAMN her!!!!). Don't get me wrong, she was still funny and full of giggles and quips, but I did kind of regret not having her to myself so I could see the full E Show, complete with buh-dump-dump-CHINGs after every sentence. I mean, I'm glad Rach got to meet her, but I don't know... I guess I'm sorta (okay, VERY) selfish in pregnancy.
Anyhoo, so after hanging out with E for like THREE HOURS (!!!!), Morgy, Rach and I headed in the the Spaceship down to Galveston to bawlk at the Hurricane Ike damage. I'm gonna choke up if I go into too much detail, but let me just say that it was bizarre seeing Brodies in a near pile of rubble. To see our old picnic tables gone. To see freshly (and absurdly colorful) painted houses next to piles of debris that used to be houses. That's all I really have to say about that.
We dropped Morgy off at Shannen's and headed back to the hotel. I wanted to go see a movie, but Rach was pretty tired. I HAD to go, though. Boudy had emailed me that he would be off on Monday, but I didn't see a way to fit him in what with the Morgy and the E and the Galveston and whatnot, but since I was on my own for the movies, I figured it was the perfect opportunity. I mean, it wouldn't be the "good four-hour chunk" of talk time he requested, but it would have to do, right?
So, to kill time, we met up at the wing place (yeah, what are you going to SAY about it? You think you can eat wings in FRANCE? Well, let me tell you... NO! Not only that, even the "great" wing places in Charlotte don't serve my fave flave of Gold Rush (honey mustard mixed with mild buffalo) and the one place that would mix them together at my request stopped doing it, so the only damn place I can get my good stuff is in freakin' State College, PA and H-town dammit!). We ate and gabbed and gabbed and ate until I looked down at my watch and noticed that we had missed all potential movies by at least half an hour. YAY!!!! Now that's some good gabbin'. Since the place was closin', we tried to find another that served beer and stayed open late, but nothin' did, so we just went back and sat in the hotel lobby and talked about Obama.
*sigh* Yep, as surprised as I am to say it, Boudy has been brainwashed by the Church of Obama. I guess when you live in Houston, surrounded by the folks who put both Tom De Lay and W into the big white house, hope and change are even more glittery words than in other places. I mean Boudy was even almost more smitten that you, Mi. *sigh* I'd hate to see you two together... I'd be afraid you'd start speaking in tongues or something. *eye roll*
The conversation ended on a good note, though. Once I had him convinced that I didn't HATE O-blah-ma and that I, too, am all for "hope" and "change" and toothpaste recommended by 9 out of 10 dentists, he relaxed and we talked about writing. I'm so excited to know that he has promised to send me some of his stuff when he gets a chunk. I can't even DESCRIBE this dude's writing, y'all. All I can say is that it is TANGIBLE. Like you can hold his stuff in your hand and smell it and taste it and fall in love (or at least become infatuated) with it. I can't WAIT!!!! And though he CONSTANTLY forgets that my writing isn't fiction (saying things like, "I think your novel needs..."), his comments on my stuff have always been good, deep, reflective ones, so I'm looking forward to that, too.
We parted ways at 2am. I slept well that night.
The next morning, after breakfast, Rach and I monopolized the "business center" and played on the computer. Then, as we were walking out, we noticed that the inauguration was on. Earlier, when I was up in the room getting something, I noticed that people actually boo'ed Bush as he was introduced. I was STRUCK by a strange emotion. Shame. I hate Bush (well, not the human himself but nearly EVERYTHING he represents), but I have enough class not to stoop to boo'ing for fuck's sake. Are you kidding me? I mean, are we hanging out on the playground or something here? In my opinion, that just set the "circus" scene for the whole ceremony. I was ASHAMED because I knew that the WHOLE world (including parts who would normally have been ASLEEP) was watching. *sigh* And I was, for a second, ASHAMED of being American... For one second, that boo'ing cancelled out all the pride I felt for being someone who had voted for the first AA president of the U.S.
So, anyway, we sit and watch the ceremony. And we nod our heads and say, "Nicely put," during several parts of Obama's speech. And we squirm uncomfortably during the parts where he seems to still be on the campaign trail. And we wonder out loud what kind of purpose any of that would have other than to be all "nanny nanny boo boo" in Bush's face (which doesn't really accomplish much, if you ask me). I mean, the fight has been won, right? Why couldn't he just have said, "You asked for change, I'm here, let's do this?" Ugh.
And then, all the fucking pompous pomp and ball shit. Don't get me started on how much of that could have fed starving children or planted fields of sustainable grains or bought countless trios of rabbits for developing villages around the world and how disappointed I was that O-blah-ma didn't start his new era of "change" by setting a new precedent and asking his donors to call off the balls and instead just eat some sandwiches and do Karaoke night or some shit. I understand the need for the swanky new pope-mobile-esque Caddy limo and stuff. I understand that nearly the ENTIRE state of Arkansas would love to see this guy take one to the forehead and that he needs to be protected (and especially his kick ASS wife--who really SHOULD have run for prez--and their two gorgeous angelic girls)... But... I'm just sayin'... All the rest makes me wanna puke. And it disappoints me.
But then... THEN... we went to Fogo de Chao. We had been planning to go there since she got to Houston. It was going to be our post-race iron/protein reward. And BOY was it rewarding. It was SO cool to be there with her because she SO appreciated it. She kept GUSHING about how great it was and how they need to have one in Charlotte and how she felt like a princess because the service was so good and the food even better. It was AWESOME to go there with someone who isn't non-chalant, but instead FULL of life and appreciation. It made it even better for me!
Afterwards, we went to Pasadena to drop by Grandma Lulu's house for a quickie visit. Aunt C came home right after we got there so we got to see her, too. It was great to see them again, because when you visit Lulu, there's no pressure to do anything except sit and talk. She always crochets and the tv is always on in the background and it's just like, well, hangin' out. No pressure to really get into DEEP conversation or whatnot (though, ironically, we usually do). The only setback is that--though Grandma is a self-proclaimed Dem--she watches fucking Fox News. And there was this white-blonde haired fuck on there bitching about Obama, etc. Ugh. AGAIN, I'm no Obama-ite, but I did vote for him and I AM hopeful. What maybe disgusted me the most is that I actually AGREED with the Fox Motherfucker because he said something along the same lines as what I said above. About the expense. Ugh. Double-ugh. Moving on.
So, after a day of gorging on carcass and visiting grand-peeps, we went back to repack. And repack. And REPACK. I had to seriously WORK to get it to where one of my suitcases would be 50 pounds (and actually still CLOSE) and the other would be just under 70 pounds. I knew I'd have to pay a fee for the 70 pounder, but wanted to make sure not to pay for the other one. I had to keep wheeling the suitcases down to the workout room and weighing them, then taking them BACK up to the room, rearranging and going back down to re-weigh. I guess I could have tried to haul all the shit downstairs since the workout room was empty every time I went down there, but, meh.
With both suitcases perfectly packed (to the point that I didn't want to open either one for fear of ruining the delicate balance of the universe), I went to sleep.
The next morning, I made my way over to Shannen's around 5am with little white paper sacks full of Kolaches and donut holes. This was to be our "Last Breakfast" before I would leave the next day. And since she had to leave for work around 7:30, we couldn't really meet anywhere cuz that'd mean she'd have to get up and get ready around 4am. *eyes bulging* It was good to see her and Morgy one quick last time, but it also made it hard. There I was, still in Houston, all day and didn't get to see my sis. She did call me at one point and tell me she had seen McLovin, the guy from Superbad (okay, it wasn't the REAL McLovin, but it looked like him). And then, I called her to tell her I had heard the "techno twins" commercial she had told me about--at which point, we decided that our new sister names were Splad and Sveeder (I'm Sveeder, by the way... and proud of it). I just don't feel like my sis and I got much QUALITY time together. She's got this boyfriend who lives with her. He's really super nice and cute and Latin and stuff, but he's a really keep-to-himself-er.
So, several times when she and I had plans or whatnot, she'd be like, "You know, I don't really feel like ________. And F is off work/home from work/etc. So, you go on ahead." I can't lie and say I didn't feel slightly ditched, but then again, I was spending my evenings NOT with her but instead with all my other friends who work day jobs and can only get away in the evenings. I felt bad that I didn't get to spend more just hanging out time together. We did have that rockin' pasta party epiphany with the Jeff Galloway thing (that changed my life!!!), so that was good, but I can't help but be excited about her coming over here so I'll have her all to myself and won't have to share her with her Latin Lovah (as sweet and as nice as he is... I mean this guy would get up and make his breakfast before going to work and leave me some of it in the pan because he knew I liked it... how freakin' cool is THAT? I mean, I'm feeling all guilty just THINKING about it!!!).
When I got back, Rach was up, I gave her her Kolache and after the quick scarf-down, we headed out for some errands. We went to Target and exchanged my new camera since it had fritzed out on me after the race. It came back on but I didn't want to get all the way to France and realize that I should have exchanged it. I bought a Beyonce CD and shamefully sought out the new Britney one. They were out! I can't believe I'm actually admitting my disappointment. I actually had Rachel ask the guy about the CD because I didn't want to be seen buying it. Like getting an adult to buy your booze, smokes or porn for you when you're a wayward teen, eh?
Then, we went next door and closed down my WAMU account. I had opened it when I started free-lance cuz it make things easier for tax purposes to have my own business account linked to my own business, but since I haven't sold anything in so long. *shrug* They tried hard to keep me, going on and on about free, etc. But they've already cancelled my account once because there hasn't been activity on there for over a year, so, I'm thinking nah. Then, we went to JCPenney to buy a couple of bras since my sister's dryer ATE mine (I told you the thing hates me!).
With that done, it seemed sort of silly to do anything but head to the airport. I mean, we stopped for gas and a last snack food binge (well, Fritos honey-bbq spiral chips and a humongous Gatorade... neither of which I can get over here) and then made our way to the terminal. I figured it best for Rach not to have to deal with the whole rental car shuttle fiasco (plus, I know how she likes to lose herself in her book and she seemed really ready for that), so I took her directly to her departure terminal and hugged and choked back tears as I said goodbye and thank you for coming and running and putting up with me and my smelly frenchness. Then, I went to the rental car place which was about as painful as sleeping on a cloud. Dude, if you ever rent, go Enterprise, yo! I used to do Avis all the time because they were cheap and I thought they had good service. Turns out, Enterprise is CHEAPER and I've NEVER had such great service! EVER!!! I thought that getting to the actual terminal with my behemoth suitcases was going to be a problem, but it wasn't. There were those free luggage carts everywhere and the shuttle bus driver was super helpful and everything. And though I was like FOUR HOURS early, the Air France counter still let me check in and got those huge ass bags off my hands and only made me pay for the big mean heavy one.
Since I knew I couldn't take my Gatorade through security, I sat, ate my Fritos, drank my Gatorade and finished my Augusten Burroughs book (*sigh* ahhhhhh the LOVE... I think I pretty much WORSHIP Augusten Burroughs... why didn't HE run for prez?). When all that mess was over, I made my way through security, stopping only to chat with the guard about the half marathon that he said he wished he had done. "I've only ever run the 5k." I told him he absolutely MUST do the half next year and that he wouldn't regret it.
Then, as I sat at my gate, marveling that there seemed to be nobody there, I noticed that the Duty Free shop had little packages of NASA stuff. I couldn't resist it. Ryan just absolutely LOVES space stuff (and really, Lily does too). So, I bought the humongous backpack full of stuff: Shuttle, rocket, lunar module, moon buggy, two or three space dudes, a flag, etc.
My flight was easy and quick. Like I said, there was NO ONE on the plane. I got mine and the two seats next to me all to myself. Every four-seat console in the middle of the plane was occupied by just one person (and I suddenly wished I were one of them because though i had three seats to myself, I couldn't really lie down all the way like those in the middle). I finished Hancock and In Bruges (which I had started on the way over) and watched the Dark Knight (and cried like a baby at the end because I knew there'd be no more Ledger behind that Joker... dude, I'm choking up again... aw, Heath... why'd you have to play with pills? *sniff*). I started to watch Journey to the Center of the Earth, but got sleepy and tried to nap.
Know what? If you ask for a vegetarian meal (like I did) you get your meal a good 20 mins before everyone else. Try it. You can also ask for a halal meal and get it early. And usually the food is better. I'll admit, I was hungry like an animal and could have eaten THREE or FOUR of those, but it probably would have been the same had I gotten a regular meal.
I did have to keep putting my feet up on a pile of pillows at the other end of my three seats in order to try to ward off swelling. As soon as I'd put my feet on the floor, I could feel my calves filling up with fluid. Even though I was afraid my feet would swell to the point I couldn't put my shoes back on, I took them off anyway. And everything was good for most of that first flight.
As we landed in Paris, I realized the amnesia. You know, it took me a day or two once in Houston, to get back into the groove of being American again. There were only really 48 hours of "in France, this" and "in France, that." But now, as I saw Paris heading toward me, I could FEEL myself starting with, "In the States...." It only took ten days back home to change me back. Or to strengthen that American half of me. To wake it up.
In Paris, they took my toothpaste. Yes. Because I guess the limit is 100ml or something and my toothpast was 160 or something? The guy kept going on and on about how he was SO surprised it didn't get caught on my way TO the U.S. *eye roll* What the fuck ever! I don't CARE! I said, "Look, please take it if you want, I just don't want to miss my flight." He apologized and a teensy part of me DID sort of mourn my delicious Arm and Hammer Sensitive with Whitening that I'll never find over here, but I have a couple more tubes here. I'll just have to be stingy with them and make Sam buy his own goddamn toothpaste.
The landing announcement woke me up. We were arriving in Lyon. I got a jolt of lightning through my gut and could suddenly not hold still. My leg started tapping and my butt wiggling like I had to pee. I missed my kids. Not in theory, not in heart, not in mind. Physically NEEDED to hold my babies and rub my cheeks on theirs and smell their milky baby breath and hear their little voices. I needed my kids like a junkie needs a fix. When I went to the baggage carousel and found that one of my bags was missing, the only thing I thought was, "Shit, the presents were in there" cuz I wanted to have stuff to give the kids. I did the quick reporting thing on my bag and then rushed out to meet Sam.
There was no arms-thrown-open greeting in spite of an email he had sent me while I was away saying that he was depressed and wanted to "go home... and I don't know what that means except that home is wherever you are and when you're not here, I'm not good and I can't function without you." That must have dissipated with time because there was no, "Welcome home, luvah" embrace or anything. He only bitched about my bag being left in Paris and how we'd have to come back around 3pm to get it or wait until the next morning to have it delivered. *sigh*
We went home, he went and bought me a kebab and once it was in my stomach, I fell into a coma.
I was awakened by "Mimi, Mimi!!!!" and giggles and this blonde haired being throwing herself on me and this other strange child who had aged a thousand years pointing at me and releasing a primal scream that I actually HEARD translated in my bowels as "It's HERRRRRR!!!! My MOTHER!!!!!! SHE'S HERE!!!!!" And then, I was being tackled by these beings, covered in slobbering kisses and having my hair pulled and fingers pinching my nose and tiny fingernails tickling my throught and little hands slapping my tummy. I'll never forget that welcome. Never. It's burned in the happy place of my heart.
Around 3 we got a call that my bag was there so we RUSHED out to the airport, I went in and grabbed it while Sam stayed with the sleeping girls in the van. We knew we wouldn't have time to go home first, so we went straight to Ryan's school and parked illegally in the rain while Sam went to get Ryan. I kept waiting, watching, my feet twitching, until I saw the running brown-haired animal. I jumped out of the van and threw my arms open, the animaly jumped into my arms, covered my face in kisses and threw back his head, eyes closed, talking to the sky, "You're here. You're finally back!" I cried as I told him to hop into the van so we could go back home for his surprise.
He LOVED the backpack of space stuff. So did the other two girls. He played with them all afternoon and even came to my bedroom in the middle of the night to wake me up and tell me, "Mom, thanks for the great space stuff surprise." What a kid!
I know this is already really really long and I WOULD propose to come back later and finish it, but I can't guarantee that there'll be a time when I am free to write or have the energy to do so... So... I'm going to plod forward and hope you'll stay with me or go pee and come back to finish.
Since before I left, I have been cramping. Since that monster OB/GYN jammed that sonogram wand up in me. I have been cramping. I cramped pretty mucht the whole time I was over there and I actually wondered whether or not it was a good idea for me to do the 1/2. I almost didn't do it. But, I figured that since I had done three while pregnant with Lolo, it couldn't hurt. That, and well, whatever was going to happen was going to happen. I can't spend 8 months on bedrest. If the pregnancy was supposed to happen, it was just going to have to survive my habits. I mean, it's not like I'm an alcoholic or a junkie or anything. I'm a runner (and not even very fast, at that).
So, I ran. And as you know, it went FABULOUSLY. I didn't have any ab pain. And actually, the cramping stopped during and after the race. But, the NEXT day... the day we spent so much time SITTING (in the resto, in the car to Galveston, etc.), I came home to find a leeeeetle spotting when I went pee.
Then, it got worse.
And now, it's to the point where it looks like it's almost a period. So, I figured I'd lost the baby. Or was loosing it. And though I felt NO GUILT for having gone to TX NOR for having done the 1/2, I knew that all the people around me would razz me about it anyway if I lost it. Or was loosing it.
I didn't know how to feel. I mean, I've miscarried before. Back then, we were TRYING to get pregnant and REALLLY NEEDED to get pregnant. This time was a welcome surprise but a surprise nonetheless. And since the last miscarriage, my thoughts and feelings have changed about gestation and pregnancy. I have come to see that, at least for me, the pain of miscarriage is more about the loss of the IDEA of the child rather than the actual BEING in the womb. At this point in the pregnancy, the only thing this being brings me is crazy vivid dreams, hella vertigo and constant peeing (and don't get me started on the eating). It's not a BABY per se. It's pre-baby, if you will. It's an idea. It's a possible name. It's a where-are-we-gonna-put-it and where-will-it-sleep and did-we-bring-the-newborn-clothing-with-us? I'm not trying to say that it's an inconvenience. We really ARE ecstatic about the thought of a sixth family member. Lolo will just eat him/her up (I'm not sure how literally I mean that) and I think Lily will be at the point where she'll want to help take care of the baby. But, if I miscarry, I won't be DEVASTATED like I was with the last one.
I won't sit around and mull over all the reasons why. I won't grieve and blame and cry. I'll sigh a great sigh, cry a few tears at the postponement of the Idea and move on.
But, the hard part is the limbo. You can't really know where to put it if you don't know what the fuck is going on. Am I losing it or not? I'm reminded every time I go to the bathroom that hey, I'm pregnant and that hey, I'm probably losing it.
So, yesterday, I told Sam that he either needed to take me to the hospital or go buy a test. He bought a test. It took like 15 seconds to turn positive, so we're still pregnant. The only thing I can think is that I'm still ovulating. Or that I ovulated and am passing the egg? I don't know.
What complicates this whole thing is the OB/GYN/Sage-femme thing. I haven't been really seen by anyone. And we're not sure where to go, who to see or whathaveyou. So, today, Sam called the hospital and they said that I should come in and get seen and that I can even go ahead and fill out the paperwork to be seen there regularly. SOOOOOO, here's the way I'm understanding it.... A regular GYN is just that. A GYN. He/she MAY follow a pregnancy, but most DON'T deliver babies. They do pap smears and prescribe birth control, but they don't know nu'in 'bout birthin' no babies, Miss Scarlet! You know how many OB/GYN practices will be housed in the same complex as a hospital with a maternity ward (in the States)? Well, instead of the maternity practice being NEXT to the hospital, I think... I THINK... in France, there are doctors who work IN the hospital. They'll follow your progress and even most likely be the ones to deliver your baby. Now, hospitals in France are PUBLIC, meaning funded by the state. So, there are RULES about quality and standard care and whatnot. But there are also private "clinics" in which you're not sure WHO is there when or what or how or whathaveyou. I'll avoid those like the PLAGUE, thank you very much.
So, we're going to wait until tomorrow when Lolo and Lily and Ryan will all be in school, and we're going to go to the hospital to get seen.
The other cool thing about the hosp is that you're SURE to have NICU facilities (unlike the private clinics). The setback is that you aren't sure to have a private room and stuff like that, but to tell you the truth, frankly my dears, I don't give a damn. I am not shy about nursing my baby around strangers and I'm not usually put off by others in my same situation (which any chick sharing my room will be, right?). Plus, though the normal period you stay in the hosp post-partum here in France is three days, I'll bet you I'll be wanting to go "home" after 12 hours!!! We'll see. We'll see... Might be nice to have someone waiting on me all the time. Especially if my sister in law comes over to watch our other kids and Sam can spend a lot of time a the hosp with me. This hasn't been the case in the past. In the past, I've had to stay at the hosp all alone so Sam can take care of whatever other kid/s are still at home. It'll be nice to be able to spend some time with just Sam and the new wiggly before bringing him/her home to the other parasites.
So, there's that.
Oh, I went to see Twilight last night. I know, I know, hold on to your girdle, it wasn't MY idea. But, I have to say, *deep breath and a gulp* it... wasn't... that... bad. I mean, dude, it could only be BETTER than the fucking lame ass book, right? Actually, it took the few things I liked about the book and REALLY bled that shit through, so I was actually impressed. I wasn't, however, impressed with Ms. Meyer's attempt to be Stephen King by having her own little cameo in one of the diner scenes (yeah, that's here with her laptop at the counter), you sneaky little self-serving you-know-what. (Can't STAND her and recognized her immediately.) But overall, the movie was H.O.T. I HATED both main characters in the book and I was actually pretty in like with them in this one. Ironically, the one character I liked in the book, Jasper, was a bit of a empty shell in the movie, so that was bizarre. I'm not surprised at my dislike of Jacob Black, however, since I pretty much couldn't stand him in the book either. This movie MIGHT (I say/stress MIGHT) be the only reason I MIGHT (eh? Might.) read the third book. IF I get done with all the other books I own and IF I have a two month period in which to read her banal drivel. MIGHT.
It was cool to hang out with Flav and Gilles again, too. By the time I had gotten to the theatre, they had paid for my popcorn/coke and Gilles was in line to get my ticket because they had a free one! How freaking sweet!!!
Afterwards, I kidnapped them and made them come back to my house and eat a lamb's lettuce salad garnished with tabouleh and artichoke "bottoms."
Okay... Lolo is crying and I'm sure your eyes hurt and you have to pee.