martinimade

"The myth of the pregnant mother who is high on hormones has had considerable staying power. Something sentimental in us likes the notion that the physical discomfort of pregnancy is outweighed by the thrill of nurturing a new life within your own body. At a time of opening social mores, when mental illness is more readily acknowledged, when feminism has won women a wider range of career options, when some women’s choice not to have children is validated, when the right of gay men and lesbians to be parents has pushed the frontiers of fatherhood and motherhood, this monolithic perception of pregnancy persists. We have not acknowledged how appropriately anxiety-ridden pregnancy is, how traumatic the change in identity that accompanies prospective motherhood can be."

-- From Andrew Solomon's thorough (and resonant, for me, at least) piece on The Secret Sadness of Pregnancy with Depression in the Sunday NYT Magazine.

A couple of months ago, a publication for whom I write asked for a headshot. As I hit send on the one I usually use, I realized it is nearly ten years old. I'd like to pretend that time has failed to pass but then I realized that I am almost the mother of a teenager and that my knees make alarming noises when I go up stairs. 

Combine my ancient* headshot with a trip to Pittsburgh for the half-marathon with a college friend whose photography I deeply admire and, voila:

I imagine this is what I look like on my very best day. Anita -- the Buzzy of Buzzy Photography -- made the process painless, which is great because I truly dislike having my picture taken and that almost never fails to come through in any final shot. 

I intend to keep this one for another ten years. I mean -- how much can I change as I move into my 50s....**

Next up: a new, responsive design for this here blog, which I haven't spruced up in .... um ... a very long time.

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* for relative values of "ancient"

** I know.

Because our winter, while awful, wasn't quite as awful as everyone anticipated, the kids wound up two extra days off for Memorial Day. And because I've been feeling lately like I haven't seen my offspring quite enough and that the days are racing by, I decided that we'd take a road trip last Friday to one of my favorite places in the area: The Corning Museum of Glass.

The kids with a Chihuly. 

There were marvels to be marveled at. The Tween and I agreed that Constellation might be our favorite from this visit. It was the cast bronze poop that did it for me.

There were even more Chihulys to marvel at, including this mum with a baby as its stamen.

But the biggest draw at CMOG is the Make Your Own Glass experience. The Tween flame-worked a bead and the Boy fused a nightlight cover.

You can almost see the concentration radiating from him.

All told, a good day -- and I'm so glad that I took the time to make it happen.

* All I have is a stick.

* This is how you do it.

* It really isn't hyperbole to say that this movie played a key role in making me who I am. And that's a good thing. (And I should make the kids watch it. Wonder if it'll translate despite the 30-year wide gulf in technology?)

* This will lead me to buying far too many of these.

* College students are not customers.

* I would like a print of this, please.

* I know I've linked to her blog before but just in case you missed it -- a local acquaintance is spending a year in Mali with her family and blogging about it. It's pretty interesting stuff.

* I want to see the Nutshell Studies! (And, of course, Roman Mars' TED talk. 99 Percent Invisible is one of my favorite podcasts. The TED talk might help you understand why.)

* Saving a town, one quilt at a time. 

* My favorite movie, possibly ever. And Emily Asher-Perrin hits on most of the reasons why.

One of my most favorite things to do is interview people who have done something I would never think to do. One of my other most favorite things to do is to talk to runners about why they run. And, sometimes, these two favorites happen simultaneously. 

Here's how those in a college town  know that the students are leaving:

Oh, students. I love it when you're here. And at this time of year, I really love it when you leave.

* Scalzi again: how to raise strong women. Related.

* The science of scarcity.

* The insurance adjuster of Sodor.

* Two on Mother's Day: from the Yarn Harlot and from the depth of the pain cave.

* I wish I'd known these things before I went.

* FWIW - I've never heard of the PA one.

* I, too, would like a magical goat.

* They need one of these for theater technicians. Or maybe just a special issue?

* If you have feelings about James Tiptree, Jr., check this out.

* What a costumer does.

* This is how I do it.

Had a weekend full of general Catching Up On Things and Farting Around. Some highlights:

No, I didn't roll in horse poo. What makes you think I did? 

(Apparently, no matter how I try to rotate the picture, Typepad won't let me. Feh.)

The Tween helped me roll Summer rolls for a dinner I went to on Sunday night. Don't worry. She also got to have a few for dinner. And the rolls she crafted held up much better than the ones I did. Love that kid.

 Finally, the dinner in question:

This was dessert. Peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and sopapilla cheesecake. So good. The bonfire didn't hurt, either.

How was your weekend? Did you also get to deal with a dog covered in horse poo?

A certain corgi won't look me in the eye because I took her to the groomer's. Oh, the humanity. Or, I guess, caninity.

It's nice to have a dog who doesn't smell like hot, wet garbage, if only for a few hours.