Freckled Citizen

New Orleans, and my comedy of errors

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Thu, 30 May 2013 22:22:00 +0000

Guys. Guys!!! You know how to make a girl's public preggo announcement pretty awesome. Thank you for all your kind words!! Each one made me grin or tear up in turn, and each one was pretty special.

I'm back from my trip to New Orleans with my anniversary man and his fantastic sisters. Sadly I brought the summer cold from hell home with me, but I'm hoping to run out the clock on that one any time now. Did you hear that, cold? Any. Time. Now.

For your amusement, I thought I'd offer a little "What Not To Do" for your next trip to New Orleans. Or anywhere, really. I am a comedy of errors these days, it appears.

Let's roll the tape!

1. Don't leave your wallet - including all forms of identification and methods of payment - at home. I figured we'd just hit the big one right off the bat. Fun fact: you are in fact allowed to board a plane without ID if you submit to a thorough two-woman pat-down. Who knew?! Helpful items include: husband to pull you out of the massive public breakdown that will occur at the airport when you realize your wallet isn't in your purse, husband who is willing to pay for your forgetful ass the whole weekend, and sense of humor.

2. Don't smugly fill out a full TripIt itinerary and then gallantly lead the walk to the restaurant only to discover you switched restaurant addresses on your iPhone App. Or you'll be us, walking hand in hand to our anniversary dinner at Herbsaint only to end up at... Bayona. And then racing over to "Real Herbsaint" in a cab, very late for our reservation. But, bright side, then gallantly leading the walk to Bayona the following night! (I highly recommend both restaurants, by the way.)

3. Don't slack off on the sunscreen. So there we are, our fun group, hanging at the pool and enjoying the amazing weather. I'm feeling great and hoping I look more pregnant than just "overdid it on the beignets" in my tankini. I applied sunscreen, yes, but the same amount as normal. Apparently I should have been aware that Little One baking inside means I have to be militant with the SPF. I mean... why would I know that? It's not in any pregnancy books of mine (trust me, I checked when I got back), and no one's ever told me (ahem sis and sis-in-law). That night I had to sleep in a bath of Vitamin E oil and sheets of cold compresses, then for the rest of the trip had to ditch my cute dresses for long cotton numbers with cardigans. Sigh.

PSA: if you or someone you love is pregnant, tell them to double up on the 'screen!

So yeah. Such a fun weekend, especially for everyone else who got to enjoy the comic relief I was packing. But even my poor (literally), ID-less, direction-challenged, sunburnt self had to admit there's no where else I'd rather be. I just love that place.

I know I lit up your Instagram feeds on Sunday (sorry), but New Orleans is just ridiculously photo-worthy. Here are just a couple, since you've no doubt seen them already.

When can we go back again? (If I promise to bring ID this time...)

A new day + a new life

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Fri, 24 May 2013 14:32:00 +0000

Today's our anniversay. Number four, in fact. Four! Do you remember our anniversary last year? I flew away to New Orleans with my love to eat, drink, and be merry in one of our favorite cities. A year ago today I also confessed something close to my heart here, something buried and raw: our long struggle to conceive.

In so many ways it was a beginning, although I didn't know it at the time. The beginning of being more open about a problem so many couples experience yet so few discuss. The beginning to seeking more advanced treatment. The beginning to handling a new level of disappointment. The beginning of a new kind of dedication to having a family. A year later I'm more vulnerable, but I'm fuller, too.

The truth is, my heart is so full these days I feel like it might explode. It's time (once again) to let it all hang out.

(adventures in horrid office bathroom lighting!)

(omggetthatgirlahaircut)

It took us nearly three years and almost everything our doctors could think of, but today I'm 14 weeks pregnant with a little girl! It's surreal to see that in print, still. I'll share all the details soon - the how (unlike most pregnancy announcements, I suppose mine does warrant a "how"!), the ups and downs, and the now. But first, I have a date with an airplane headed once more to New Orleans, where my love and I will eat (oh yes), drink(ish), and be very, very merry.

I'm getting all teary writing this - the journey has just been so... much. For everyone reaading this who's still in the trenches, please know that you have an eternal sister in me. My path toward pregnancy changed me; it's absolutely a part of who I am today. No smug preggo here - just an eternally thankful one, without complaint and with a lot of humility and love. I wish I could hug each one of you in person, right in the trenches where you are. If I could lift you out myself, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

More soon. After the beignets and the shrimp etouffee.

xoxo

Landscaping our hearts out (thanks Mom!)

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Tue, 21 May 2013 01:41:00 +0000

Thanks so much, everyone, for sending such warm thoughts about my grandfather. I thought a nice way to honor him here might be to share the love that his daughter - my amazing mom - puts into everything she does and everyone she loves. We've been so lucky to benefit from her green thumb and zeal for gardening here in DC, something for which we have my grandfather to thank.

A refresher, then. When we moved in two years ago, our yard was... a dud. And six months later, it was still a dud. We had the space to do something, but weren't at all sure what to do. And since our efforts were focused on some major projects indoors anyway, we were happy to let it be.

A year and a half ago:

Late last summer, we hosted my parents for a weekend of brainstorming and space-planning. We talked about how to salvage (or not) the ugly yew hedges that border our side yard, how to make our side yard more inviting, and how to maximize the space without making it too linear. They came back in October for a H-U-G-E planting weekend, all under the eye of our visionary commander-in-chief, my mom. We decided to rip out two of the worst yews to create more breathing room in the border, to weed our butts off and mulch the hell out of the side yard (I think we put down 30 bags that weekend), to define true planting beds for the first time, to plant some large, pretty things that would be dormant until spring (lots of peonies and hydrangeas), and add some great fall color, too.

My parents came back in late April to implement Phase 2 of our plan. Thankfully, everything we put in the ground in October lasted through the winter beautifully, and we were starting to see some real growth with the warmer temperatures. This time they pulled up in the BusyBee (nickname for my mom's car - long story) with a few more large plants, spring and summer color, and lots more classic "Mom" yard touches. Our big goals were to refine our space-planning now that our little plants were big plants, define edges, switch out cold-weather color for warm-weather color, and develop a path for the side yard. About a month after their visit, I'm pretty thrilled with our results. And to know that the color out there will just continue to intensify (the peonies are just beginning! the hydrangeas are coming!)... we are giddy.

Our front yard today:

(Hi E!)

Aaand... color! (Only two of our five peony bushes have bloomed so far... I cannot WAIT to see them all!)

(apologies for the ADT photobomb)

Here's our fantastic side yard. Keep in mind that most of these large plants haven't yet bloomed, so as it gets warmer we'll have color there, too. Because our side yard is so shady we chose hydrangeas - blue, white, pink, green, and ivory lacecaps, too. The stepping stones are sandstone, and we've dotted the pathway with white star creepers, a groundcover that will slowly spread and turn our entire pathway green. As you look at these photos imagine a swath of green cutting through the mulch in between the stones - that'll be our path before too much time has passed!

(looking back to the front of the house)

And that's that! I'll be back with peony and hydrangea updates soon, so stay tuned. My Instagram feed is pretty much going to become a flowerfest for a while, so prepare yourself!

And I really do have to give another HUGE thanks for my parents for being the vision, the brains, and half the muscle. We could NOT have done it without you!

Goodbye, Grandpa

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Tue, 14 May 2013 20:33:00 +0000

A few years ago I wrote about my grandfather after he took part in the Triangle Flight for Honor with other North Carolina World War II veterans. It was a great day for him, and he had many more after that.

Last night my grandfather never made it home from his usual after-dinner stroll. We never saw it coming and neither did he, which is probably for the best. He lived such an active life that in a lot of ways, it's a fitting end. Just this Sunday, he was laughing up a storm with my dad's mom and two of his eight great-grandchildren. I'm so happy that my sister captured this wonderful moment.

I have a mercifully light workweek that allows me to head home tomorrow to spend the rest of the week with family. As goes with these things, I'm sure I'll come back a lot heavier from down-home food but a lot lighter from the laughter of everyone being together. One thing is certain: my family can always eat and always laugh.

I hope my grandparents are laughing together right now, rocking in side-by-side chairs and telling tales. Maybe they're even square-dancing again. They deserve it.

My black-tie guy

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 22:48:00 +0000

We only have one wedding this year. One! It was last weekend, and so much fun. Three words: Springsteen cover band.

Another big reason for the fun? My absolute favorite game: Ken doll! I love when T dresses up. There's a part of him that is a bit from another era, and nothing brings this out like formalwear. See also: inheriting his grandfather's collection of formalwear. (The same grandfather whose seersucker suit T wore on our wedding day.)

Exhibit A: Vintage mother-of-pearl studs:

Exhibit B: Dapper tuxedo shoes.

It can be hard for a gal to keep up with this guy. I try my best.

By the end of the night, though, I don't care what's around this guy's neck. To say my heart is full is a complete understatement.

[Final note: Staying in a fancy hotel in your own town just because? Highly recommended.]

Pretty in Pink

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 13:17:00 +0000

It's that time of year again... DC's Tidal Basin explodes into bloom, tourists descend, and just like that, the peak is over. But just as the craziness winds down a couple of miles west of our house, our very own cherry blossom trees - one in the front yard and one in the back - explode into bloom.

I can't get enough of them.

Can you blame me?

Happy spring, everyone!

April (?), randomly

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 21:11:00 +0000

Spring. Spring! Or so we've been told.

It snowed last week. I wore tights to work today. I've been shivering for fires at night. But I'm choosing to believe that change is around the corner - arriving late like DC's cherry blossoms, but bound to arrive nonetheless. A warmup is needed around these parts, and stat. I did come home with an obscene amount of ranunculus recently to make things a little springier around here. Oh how I love these flowers.

Some random please-make-it-spring thoughts:

The Nationals are back! Today was the first home game and day game. Day games are tough for me because my office is across from the ballpark. Imagine me at noon, sitting in my tights and dress, looking wistfully out at the bustling sidewalks and filling stadium, a sea of red everywhere, wishing I had a beer in hand and sunshine on my face. Sigh. Maybe next time I can sneak away...

I figured I'd get a lot of "You don't get Good Friday off?" last Friday (we get nothing off... just nada), but what is up with how many people asked me if I really had to work on "Easter Monday" today? Is Easter Monday really a thing? When did this happen?

Veronica Mars is coming along nicely. We're about to finish Season 2, and the cameos keep coming! My recent fave was an episode featuring George Michael and Maeby Funke, not being George Michael and Maeby Funke.

Also, The Voice is back. This is The Voice!! Love this show, absolutely my biggest guilty pleasure on television. I'm really not sure what I'm going to do without Cee Lo this year. I'm always on Team Cee Lo. Shakira is the upgrade of the century from Christina, in my opinion. (And yours, I'm willing to bet.) (Seriously your loss if you have no idea what I'm talking about - everyone needs a good guilty pleasure show.)

We also finally watched Season 1 of Homeland, a million years late. I know this sounds like a lot of tv... remember that whole hermit thing I wrote about two posts ago? Television marathons are made for hermitdom. And reading a ton of books. Which I've also been doing ... so there. But back to Homeland. T has this longstanding hatred for Claire Danes stemming from her being an entitled biotch in college, so it took us forever to get on board with the show despite that fact that everyone and their mom told us we would love it. The fact that CD isn't meant to be likeable helps. And yes... we love the show just as much as you all said we would. Season 2 needs to get to Netflix asap.

There is no way to gracefully transition to this one... but Eleanor has a major thing for my underwear, and it's out of control. I've replaced at least ten pairs! And am now having to do laundry frequently enough so that the hamper lid can actually fit onto the container to keep her little paws out! The outrage! So gross.

So what's happening in your worlds this "spring?"

My latest, greatest soup

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Sun, 24 Mar 2013 20:00:00 +0000

I'm obsessed with this soup. It's been a cold, dreary March in these parts, and a bowl of this deliciousness has warmed me up on multiple occasions this month. With April fast approaching and snow in the forecast this week (?!), I'm pretty sure I'll be making it again soon.

This soup is hearty without being too filling, comforting while still being healthy, and jam-packed with flavor. Give it a try. And bonus - it's totally doable on a weeknight. One note: don't skip the garlic oil topping. I thought I didn't need it, and then realized what I've been missing all these years. Garlic oil should top everything.

Sausage, Chard, and Lentil Soup

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Serves 4-6, depending on appetites. (Serves only 4 in my house.)

Ingredients

- 1/2 cup olive oil, divided
- 2 large links of sweet Italian sausage, casings removed
- 1 medium onion, diced
- 2 celery stalks, sliced or diced
- 2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into half-moons or diced
- 4 cloves garlic, sliced (reserve half for later in recipe)
- Kosher salt
- A pinch of crushed red pepper flakes
- 1 cup brown lentils, sorted and rinsed
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
- 6 cups water
- Freshly ground black pepper
- 3 to 4 cups shredded or thinly ribboned Swiss chard leaves (kale works, too)
- Grated Pecorino Romano cheese to finish

Directions

- Heat 1/4 cup olive oil in a large pot on medium heat. When hot, add the sausage, breaking it up with a wooden spoon until it starts to brown, about five minutes.

- Add the onion, celery, carrots, first two garlic cloves, a pinch of salt, and a pinch of red pepper flakes. Cook with the sausage until the vegetables soften a bit, another 5 minutes.

- Add the lentils, bay leaves, tomatoes, water (6 cups = two of your empty tomato can), more salt and black pepper to taste.

- Bring to a simmer and allow to cook until the lentils are tender, about 40 minutes.

- When the lentils are cooked, add the chard and cook until the leaves are tender, just a few minutes more. Discard the bay leaves.

- To finish, divide soup among bowls, then add the remaining 1/4 cup olive oil and 2 garlic cloves to a small skillet and heat over medium until the garlic softens and hisses. Drizzle this over soup bowls, and top with fresh Romano, passing more at the table.

The worst and the best of it.

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 01:27:00 +0000

People ask: what's the worst thing about IVF? Well...

The cost. I already complained about this one. Holy CRAP, the cost. It's absolutely debilitating. Enough said.
The side effects. If I was one to post photos of my stomach online, I could show you. I'd show you the span of bruises, a range of sizes and colors, ringing my entire abdomen. I'd show you how pregnant I look before an egg retrieval, belly as full and round as I imagine it might look in happier times. Baseball-size ovaries feel just like you think they would, actually. And the fatigue is a new level of fatigue, of a body doing things it's not meant to and continually asking you why. Everything hurts... a lot.
The alienation. An IVF cycle takes over your life. There's really no other way to put it. You can't leave town. You have to show up to the clinic nearly every day. You have to stay off your feet and can't do anything remotely active at all. You are an incubator, plain and simple. The only way to feel more normal through it all is to try and pretend that it's not taking over your life, pretend to be normal. And so you try to be normal with people who don't understand what's happening and you fail miserably. Faking normality is painful. And then you just give in and let it take over your life for real. You become a hermit.
The reaction. Is there a worse feeling than trying desperately to be happy for someone else's good fortune, but failing? IVF girls know what I mean here, and it's heartbreaking. Feeling like a bad friend is the worst feeling of all. I'm so very happy for your pregnancy conceived after one month of trying... now please let me shut myself away for the next three days. It only gets harder over time.
The "What If?" What if we go through all of this again, and it still doesn't work? How many times can we try? How old will I be then? How broke? When do we switch to Plan B? What is Plan B?

And now, let's do something that used to come much more naturally to me. What's the best thing about IVF?

The science. Without a doubt, the science of IVF is some cool shit. I'm not a science girl, either, and this stuff amazes me. Our bodies are amazing on their own. But the ways brilliant people have devised to help biology along? Astounding. Growing dozens more eggs at a time than our bodies normally produce in a cycle is painful as hell, but the fact that we can even do that at all, then mate them in a lab and insert them back into the right environment, all of it manipulated precisely? It's crazy. For the first time ever, I can honestly say I think it'd be cool if my kids became scientists.
The ownership. One thing I've learned waiting in countless morning monitoring lines is this: IVF gives women choices. Nothing makes me happier for my gender than choice. I've been in line with women freezing just in case, women starting a family with their wives, women with a second chance on life and love... all kinds of women. IVF is a tool that gives all of us dramatically better chances than we've ever had before, and we make all the decisions - whether to go through this at all, how to go through it, how many embryos to implant, how many to freeze, whether to use or destroy them. We choose. That's a beautiful thing.
The hope. Few jump into IVF first - our roads there are usually long and littered with frustration and grief and even tragedy. With other assisted reproduction techniques, insurance typically covers several procedures, so there's not as much risk or sacrifice involved. With IVF, we put everything on the line because it's the end of the road, because we believe, and that kind of hope is intoxicating. It makes the failures all the more heartbreaking - oh god the heartbreak - but I think it might make the successes more exhilarating, too.

One other note, in case someone you love is going through IVF. You might feel weird sometimes, and that's okay - we feel weird, too. Being there is all you need to do - you don't need to know the right questions to ask or anything at all about this crazy-science-magic. You just need to keep knowing us, and that's enough. With any luck (and some of that hot science, too), one day it won't be so weird anymore.

"Hey handsome... what do you say we slip out of here and inject a trigger shot in that fancy hotel bathroom we passed?"

Oldie but goodie

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 01:09:00 +0000

Update: So seriously, I start watching this show right when the Kickstarter movie campaign begins? What are the chances?? Nice work, V.

Some things I wish I could go back in time and tell myself in 2004:

Nothing will turn out the way you think, but it will turn out even better.
This is the most self-indulgent time you’ll ever have – act like it!
Savor every minute with your girlfriends.
Watch Veronica Mars!

I know, one of these things is not like the other. And sure, I was eyeball-deep in graduate school and everything that came with it in the fall of 2004, meaning television didn’t happen very much for me then. Plus there was a certain World Series that October. But this show!

8.5 years after its debut, I’m loving:

The always-adorable Kristen Bell as a spunky Nancy Drew type
Quick wit and funny writing
The high/low plot point mix
Awesome father/daughter relationship
Amazing cameos from then-unfamous actors
A great heart
Hilariously bad lighting

So this is me these days – laying super-low and watching old television. I can't get enough of this fun fluff!

And yeah, this is also me deciding that blogging at all is better than blogging importantly. Enjoy!

Still here...

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Mon, 04 Feb 2013 16:21:00 +0000

...keepin' on keepin' on.

I think my least favorite word is "busy." Such a lame excuse, no? And yet... that's my only one. Busy. Thank you for your sweet notes and concern, but I have mostly just the plague of the working world to blame, and the havoc it can sometimes wreak on our emotional breathing room. I'm always over on Twitter or Instagram, you know. No need to craft paragraphs there. No need to format. Other platforms work a little better for the dreaded "busy."

I also haven't opened Google Reader since around Thanksgiving, so I apologize for not sharing your own spaces more frequently. Like so many things, I'll try to be better at that.

A song for today. (For every day.) One of my all-time favorites, given such sweetness by the Lumineers.

To slowing down, then... sooner (ideally) or later (more realistically).

Salted Caramel Pie

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Mon, 10 Dec 2012 16:22:00 +0000

The most indulgent thing I've done in ages is to eat this salted caramel pie. I actually meant to share it with you a year ago, when my sister and I first made it for Thanksgiving 2011. So I'm only a year late on this one. We never stopped talking about the pie, so I made it again for Thanksgiving 2012 and took it the family farm in Bertie County, NC. It was a hit.

And that trip, by the way? So peaceful.

But back to the pie. It's dangerous. My brother doesn't even like sweets and he had two pieces. It's easy to put together, just time-consuming. Have a slow day at home to yourself? Think about whipping this baby together. It's hands-down the best dessert I've ever made, and I'm prepared to make it for the rest of my life, if family requests are any indication.

Salted Caramel Pie

From Food & Wine

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups graham cracker crumbs (about 5 ounces)

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1/4 cup light brown sugar

Two 14-ounce cans sweetened condensed milk

Fleur de sel

2 cups heavy cream

2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 350°. In a food processor, pulse the graham cracker crumbs with the melted butter and light brown sugar until the crumbs are moistened. Press the crumbs evenly into a 9-inch glass or metal pie plate. Bake for about 10 minutes, just until lightly browned. Let cool. Increase the oven temperature to 425°.

2. Scrape the condensed milk into a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish and sprinkle with a scant 1/2 teaspoon of fleur de sel. Cover the dish with foil and place it in a roasting pan. Add enough hot water to the pan to reach one-third of the way up the side of the baking dish. Bake, lifting the foil to stir 2 or 3 times, until the condensed milk is golden and thickened, about 2 hours; add more water to the roasting pan as necessary. The consistency of the caramel should be like dulce de leche. Don't worry if it is lumpy; it will smooth out as it chills.

3. Scrape the caramel filling into the pie crust, smoothing the top. Spray a sheet of plastic wrap with vegetable oil spray and cover the pie. Refrigerate until the filling is chilled and set, at least 4 hours.

4. In a bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the cream with the confectioners' sugar until firm. Remove the plastic. Mound the whipped cream on top of the pie and sprinkle with fleur de sel. Cut into wedges and serve.

Unfiltered

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 05:35:00 +0000

Right now there is a puppy asleep on my feet, a cat being spooned by the sleeping husband beside me, another cat on the windowsill pondering life's mysteries, and a wheezing computer trying its hardest not to die on me as I type. There's a body that doesn't feel at all like mine, but hasn't for months anyway, a brain that's crammed much too full of work to tell a proper story or be socially engaging, and deep fatigue. Eleanor just emitted one of those great deep puppy sighs, and girl, I am feeling you on that. Let's all sigh together.

I used to love the phrase "grace under pressure." I aspired to rise above whatever life threw at me in a series of triumphant Clairee Belcher moments featuring resplendent hair and heartwarming sass. My reality, however, is that I don't know how to properly blow out my own hair and I'm too tired for quick wit. My reality is that I'm working way too much in a high-pressure situation, that T and I will have one weekend alone in our house in two months' time, and that fertility medications continue to be someone's idea of a pretty crappy joke.

But. There is a Christmas tree! Our first tree together, believe it or not. It's twinkling downstairs amidst a messy living space, making stacks of mail and piles of shoes look almost charming in all its twinkly glory. A Christmas tree is like Instagram for your house, I swear. The tree's a good three feet shorter than my heart wants it to be and it happens to have many large holes that weren't quite apparent in the Eastern Market tree lot, but it's ours. What I'd love now is the time and quiet space inside my head to devote a night - or even an hour - to just looking at it and feeling peaceful. Is it possible to schedule feelings of peace and goodwill, or is that a stretch? I'm really looking for life Instagram, aren't I?

The list of things I wish I was better at right now is lengthy. Cooking. Housekeeping. Blogging. Seeing friends. Going to the movies. Reading. Making time for a haircut/facial/massage. Having energy. Any energy at all. Lately I'm good at working, medicating, and seeing family. Those are important things, but I miss the small stuff. I miss moments that don't need a filter. I know they're out there, somewhere. I'd just really like for them to make their way toward my Christmas stocking.*

*Not yet hung and currently in a pile on the mantel. But you get my drift.

Eleanor gets kissed... and ID'd

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 20:50:00 +0000

Did you know it was Eleanor Roosevelt's birthday yesterday? It was. [Please pause for a moment of silence to the late, great ER.]

As for our little Eleanor, she finds it pretty exhausting trying to live up to her namesake's greatness. Sleeping like a champ, retrieving frisbees and balls to her heart's content, bonding with her dog-walker, gearing up for puppy classes - pretty tiring stuff. Not to mention making out with Switters the cat... now that is exhausting. And on video! Please enjoy my excited whispers to T regarding my sneaky videotaping and my quick interference when things started getting a little too physical, which they tend to do with these two. (I already know you're going to ignore the laundry pile, so I won't even bother asking about that.)

In other big canine news, guess what we received this week? Eleanor's DNA report! It made us laugh. Turns out our four month old 13-pounder has a pretty good chance of staying small-ish. And while my big dog-loving heart is slightly crushed by that news, my Eleanor-loving heart doesn't care one bit. Here's our possible runt-for-life who's nearly all legs trying to look taller upon hearing the news.

To recap, when we adopted Eleanor we were told she was a lab/poodle mix. We definitely doubted that rather designer mix of breeds given her rough-and-tumble upbringing, and threw out the poodle possibility pretty quickly. Her rescuer was fairly certain her mother was a lab because of a pregnant lab in the area and the fact that many of Eleanor's littermates looked just like labs. Our girl looks nothing like a lab, but it seemed possible. As for the rest of her, guesses included schnauzer, terrier, and German wire-haired pointer.

Drumroll please...

Eleanor Roosevelt the Scruffy Squirt is...

1/2 purebred Miniature Poodle

1/2 mixed breed consisting primarily of Terrier and Boxer

So that's our girl! I really should've taken bets on this mystery. She's not going to be the biggest gal on the block, but she just might be the cutest. And that's all right with me.

Still kickin'

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 14:18:00 +0000

It's been pointed out that I'm a bad blogger, which is entirely accurate. Instagram is so much easier and fun to update lately than the blog, I have to admit (I'm "magmaeA" over there, by the way). In other words, I'm tired and lazy right now. And yet, our days have been peppered with liveliness, too. A little taste:

This girl.

Getting a dog was such a good idea. She's worth it in every way, even if she's turning out to be a little shrimp who'll be probably 1/3 of what I consider to be the ideal dog weight. She's our little shrimp, though, and she's perfect. DNA test results coming soon!

This weekend getaway.

We spent a recent weekend on the Delaware beaches with one of our favorite couple friends, J and A. The four of us see a lot of each other around DC, so when they invited us to hang at their parents' place in Delaware (whose beaches I'd never visited), we pounced. I think we can all agree that finding couple friends can be pretty tough, and when it works, you hang on tight. A and J were kind enough to invite Eleanor to spend the weekend with us, too. Watching her big grin and tiny body on those long legs running free on the beach warmed my heart more than I should admit. Our Delaware weekend also featured one of my all-time favorite meals: a lobster BLT served with lobster creamed corn. Yeah, I said it. NOM. This getaway happened just when we needed it most, so I'd like to raise a virtual bloody mary to the couple we like even more after a weekend away with them - no small thing. Next up: foursome scotch tour of Scotland! (Which admittedly might take a while to come to fruition. We can dream, right?)

This weekend at home.

My parents spent last weekend in DC and true to form, we kicked some major butt under their direction. They planned two weekends with us this fall. The first was to be the "yard planning" weekend, and the second was the implementation weekend. Although we were technically supposed to be just planning last weekend, we did a heck of a lot of implementing, too. My mom's grand vision for the yard is slowly taking shape - it's about halfway done. We put down 23 bags of mulch, ripped out multiple ancient and sickly plants, found all manner of glass and trash buried in the yard, put in lots of new plants, and developed a concrete plan for the weekend of October 20, when we'll finalize it all. Yard stuff is so funny - I never prioritized having one or really caring much about the fact that for Capitol Hill, we actually have a big yard. Now that Eleanor's with us, though, I love that we can play fetch right at home and she can actually run up and down that side yard - all the better now that it's no longer covered with ivy. We love our walkable neighborhood and big local parks, but seeing this yard finally becoming an amenity rather than an afterthought is pretty spectacular. And it's all due to my parents, who rock. Big time.

Oh yeah, one other thing...

It's on.

A new chapter.

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Wed, 19 Sep 2012 16:40:00 +0000

So. Life has been... full.

Puppy licks. Interspecies interaction. Neighborhood strolls. Showers hosted. Work events. So much support from my loved ones that I walk around in a constant state of humble gratitude. Because life has also been... weird.

Hospital visits. Anesthesia. So.many.injections. Ultrasounds. Side effects galore. Crazy-science-magic. The weight of my own body on itself only barely equalling the emotions of it all.

Right. I haven't mentioned it here yet.

We started IVF.

And because the best place to begin is probably the most surreal place, I'll offer the following:

This is what $3,743 worth of medication looks like.

That's a lot to put in your body over the course of a month. And when the docs later realize they forgot something and tell you it'll be another $380, you don't even bat an eye, because that's actually cheap compared to the stuff piled on that table.

IVF is a lot like IUI, actually... on steroids. And we should know, after three IUI failures. The promise of IVF is bigger, though. There's more certainty, more knowledge, and yep, more money. Lots more.

A dear friend of mine asked me what I felt like the worst part of IVF was. Did it represent a failure, a scary next step, the feeling of wasting time, the amount of medication, or was it the money that got to me most? And without skipping a beat, I said money. Our health insurance is fantastic for everything except this. We are 100% out of pocket for IVF, which is how we ended up spending $4k in meds. Add on the actual cost of treatment, monitoring, procedures, and high-tech lab work? We basically bought a car at our fertility clinic.

The bottom line, though, is what we'd rather have in our lives more than a child. The answer, of course, is nothing. Not a new deck, a landscaped yard, less student loan debt, or more savings. Not any of that. Yet still, it burns. I wonder why our cost to conceive is so high, when other people's is, say, the cost of a wine cooler. In my worst moments I whine about the inequities. Especially since even now, after doctors have watched T's sperm successfully fertilize my eggs in a lab, we don't have any more answers than we did before. "Unexplained Infertility," still.

So these days we're laying low. We're eating at home, playing with the puppy, watching baseball, and reading books. Outside of the side effects, it's not a bad place to be, really. Our days are quieter than before, but in a nesting way rather than an empty way. We're full of hope, because our chances are better than ever.

Is hope worth the cost of my beloved old Subaru Forester? I doubt it. But is a child? Absolutely.

To be continued.

Labor Day lemonade

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Thu, 06 Sep 2012 14:52:00 +0000

Lots of ladies in my life lately, which I adore. They're helping to take my mind off some less-than-awesome medical developments in my world. Great ladies will do that for a girl.

My pals from graduate school spent the weekend here, walking the monuments with me and remembering all about that thing we have here on the East Coast called humidity. It was a sweaty, wonderful weekend. We planned Marjorie's side business, planned Mikaela's forthcoming son's middle name, planned the trashy fictional series I will write to make my millions. We do know how to plan, the three of us. I love those two with all I have, and Albuquerque is a lucky city to have them.

The girls approved of Eleanor, of course. She continues to amuse us with her scruffy self and charming antics.

She's such a little squirt right now. I keep wondering aloud to T if she's ever actually going to grow (a weekend parasite certainly didn't help matters). She's sort of a miniature old lady right now with that beard of hers. I can't get enough of that funny face.

See that collar of hers? Girl is decked out for election season. She's feeling it, too - I'm pretty sure after Tuesday night she was angling for a name change to Michelle. I get it - my love for the First Lady knows no bounds.

How are the cats hanging in there, you might be wondering? Differently. Switters is more eager to be pals, and Fanny is occasionally bitchy for no reason whatsoever. In other words, they're being themselves. But ten days in, we're feeling pretty good about interspecies cooperation over here.

Puppy kisses, kitten purrs, good politics on tv, good friends visiting me from too far away... this is me making the best of this month. Bring it, September.

Introducing Eleanor

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Mon, 27 Aug 2012 12:01:00 +0000

(Updates in red)

After months of trying to bring a dog home, we finally struck gold. Months of local rescue applications gone unanswered, months of being told we weren't good candidates for a dog because we didn't have a fenced 2-acre yard and I dare have a job outside the home (helloooooo 1950s), months of getting thisclose with certain dogs but it just not working out because they either didn't like cats or their current owners changed their minds, we made it happen.

This is Eleanor. She's ~~twelve~~nine (long story) weeks old, a scruffy lab/poodle/schnauzer?/terrier?/German Shorthaired Pointer? mix of rough-and-tumble heritage.

Mystery solved: DNA test reveals all....

Eleanor was born in Georgia and dumped in a lot to die with her brothers and sisters. She found her way to us via a rescue partnership that sends dogs from the Deep South up north, which lets them escape the brutal shelter system down there and get matched with adopters like us, who outnumber available dogs in this area. We met her in Annapolis last night during a driving rainstorm, and even though we went in thinking one of her littermates would be our pick, this little lady stole our hearts.

She's a little squirt with big paws now, and they think she'll be 50 pounds or so when fully grown. She has serious eyes and a quirky sense of humor. We named her after one of my favorite ladies ever... a First Lady at that, also known for big thoughts and wry humor.

The cats are hanging in there. The first night is behind us. Our hearts are more full than they were yesterday, and our dog-in-the-District adventures are just beginning.

Friday I'm in Love

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Fri, 24 Aug 2012 15:50:00 +0000

Thanks for your interesting comments on de-stressing this week, everyone - I loved reading how you turn off your brains and unwind. As a big first step, I did something crazy and new on Wednesday and Thursday of this week: I took a real lunch break! It turns out that eating anywhere but my office desk does great things for my brain, especially if that anywhere is a park bench next to a water feature. This is rocket science, I know. At any rate, we might be up to something fun and exciting this weekend - I'll 'fess up next week. In the meantime, some little tidbits from my world on the Web (outside of near-constant Todd Akin outrage, of course)... Have a wonderful weekend!

Time-Travel Photography

I'm obsessed with this photography project by Sergey Larenkov. Superimposing historical scenes (wartime action... wow) over today's images produces something eery and wondrous, all at once.

Hal Grades Your Bike-Locking

I just love this guy. Via Streetfilms comes this 2003 classic, Hal Grades Your Bike Locking. Hal rocks. There are sequels, too.

21 Jump Street

I love a good foreign film or depressing melodrama as much as the next film snob. You know what I also love, though? Well-cast comedy that's a lot smarter than you expect it to be. Enter 21 Jump Street, the couch with my guy, a big bowl of homemade popcorn, and the most enjoyable Friday night in recent history. Nope, not even kidding - this movie made me giggle. A lot.

Soothe me.

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Wed, 22 Aug 2012 14:25:00 +0000

I'm under (several) doctors' orders to decrease my stress level. Nothing decreases stress like being told you must decrease your stress level, right?

This summer I've made a concerted effort to unclutter my calendar and eliminate travel, which I know has historically been one of my biggest stress-inducers, one that I bring completely onto myself. ("yes I would looooove to come and visit you! yes let's please go out twice next week! yes I will do that huge thing for you! yesyesyesyes!") In other words, I'm trying to get better about saying no.

So far this August, I've only spent one night outside of DC. That's improvement. I cancelled my annual trip to New Mexico, and my lovely girlfriends out there decided they'll come visit me over Labor Day instead. More improvement. I've never tried harder to do as little as possible. It doesn't feel like me, though, all this saying no. (I am my mother's daughter in this respect... hi Mom!)

There are overarching stress factors in my life, I know. There's time: not feeling like I have enough of it, even as I try desperately to empty my calendar. There's work: working too much for my own good, and dealing with work drama that requires more of my involvement than I'd like. There's also money: ummmm, yeah. But isn't it funny how the same things that can de-stress us can also backfire in our heads? For example:

Animals. I love animals and instantly feel better when I'm around them. We've been trying to adopt a dog for ages (long story). But wait, when is the exact right time to adopt a dog and how should that be coordinated with life-planning and what about the costs of dog-walking and doggie daycare etc? I'd like to volunteer at the Washington Animal Rescue League, too, but wait, what about the time and can I really take on a new commitment?
Reading. Books soothe me. (Read this and this, by the way, not this.) You know what I hate lately, though? Magazines. Unread magazines are piled up all over my home and do nothing but advertise to me the fact that I don't have enough leisure time to flip through their pages. Oh great, the third issue of Coastal Living to add to the pile of magazines still wrapped in plastic? Yet another Food & Wine? Awesome.
Food. I love cooking. But not when I don't have time to care about it. See unread issues of Food & Wine, above.
Friends and Family. My loved ones make me happy, but I'm less happy about my travel lockdown that hampers my ability to visit them. This is a biggie for me, a constant guilt cycle.
Facials/Massages/etc. Traditionally my favorite indulgence has been a Triple Oxygen Facial at Bliss. T keeps trying to book me massages to relax. But no on both counts. I imagine myself lying there doing nothing but counting the dollars that could've been spent on, say, embryo freezing, and getting even more worked up than I was when I arrived. Sigh.
Exercise. Like many of you, I love the high of exercise once I'm in the zone, and let's be honest - I could use the endorphins. Getting in the zone, though, is like pulling teeth. And only being allowed to engage in high-impact activities one week of the month? Not helpful. Not enough time to get in the zone.
Water. Specifically, the ocean. My perennial happy place and the best way to clear my head. But there is no ocean in DC, and fertility clinic scheduling means I can't travel anyway. So.
Writing. If only I had the time/energy to do it right.

Here's my question: how do you relax? Can we lose our ability to relax over time? Should I just be buying lottery tickets to try to eliminate my work/financial concerns and shut up already? Without said lottery winnings, do I even have a shot?

And let's agree that I'll never again write a post as whiny as this one, okay? Pinkie swear.

Lady-blogging, DC edition.

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Thu, 16 Aug 2012 16:37:00 +0000

You know what my goal is for today? To cook dinner. Not cook a great dinner, not try out a new recipe, but to cook anything at all. These days I'm only cooking on the weekends and maybe one night a week. The rest of those nights I come home later than I'd like and try to recover from the day, when my mind does nothing but reel with tomorrow's To Do list. It's not a sustainable way of being, but until I figure out how to un-busy myself from "8 to 5" (oh, those quotations), my goals will remain simple: cooking edible food tonight.

When my life gets cluttered like this, I find so much inspiration in the women who are managing to charm and amuse on their blogs. Bloggers rocking it when I'm unable to do the same are so humbling, in the best way possible. So allow me to raise my glass to three bloggers who are inspiring me online lately. It doesn't hurt that they also happen to be women I admire in real life, gals with whom I've clinked glasses and shared laughs and great food. DC is bursting with fantastic women, truly. As you'll soon see:

Mary

I've been reading Mary's blog The Arugula Files since before we moved to DC - that's how much I like her writing. I think I once even posted a stalker-y "I live in Dallas but hate it here and want to move there and when I do we can be friends" sort of comment. Embarrassing. But how I could I not stalk Mary? She cooks brilliant food that's photographed beautifully, and she writes about it really, really well. Her asides on Arugula Files leave me in stiches (cheesecloth and Beyonce and gracefully acerbic barbs at all things "foodie"). In person, Mary is even more fantastic - and we have a slew of professional interests in common. Too good to be true, right? H Street happy hours have never been more fun.

Mandy

Mandy is one of those adorable pixie girls who is so damn cute you spend the first few minutes you're with her not even hearing what she's saying because your inner monologue is reeling from all the adorable. And then your brain wakes up and you hear the spunky hilarity coming out of her Nashville-accented mouth, and you're smitten. And then you visit her blog Fabric Paper Glue and are blown away by the DIY wonder that is her online hangout, and you realize that this girl has major.crafting.skillz. And although Mandy's idea of a throw-away project might involve a lot more know-how than you possess (ahem), you love seeing her projects in action anyway. Also: "A Fabric & a Font?" Forever yes.

Bettina

Oh, Bettina Dear indeed. Bettina lives in my neighborhood and is fast-becoming one of my favorite things about it. Things we have in common: cats, oysters, drinking, cute dresses, dubious love of many academic degrees, politics. Things we don't have in common: just enough to make our conversations interesting, always. Bettina just started blogging and I adore where she's going with it: food, eye candy, politics... a little bit of everything. Sound familiar? Like I said... we have lots in common. So I really think you'll like her. Also, Bettina is not allowed to move to the suburbs... no matter what she says.

Needles (and what's inside them)

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Mon, 13 Aug 2012 14:42:00 +0000

I occasionally write about my struggle with infertility. It's good for me, and maybe good for some of you out there, too. Feel free to skip if you're not interested. If you are, you can read more from me here and find resources to help you or your loved ones here.

"How bad are the needles?"

That's what everyone wants to know about my infertility injections. How large they are, how painful they are, how weird it is to stab yourself as if it's no big deal.

Answer: it's pretty weird.

The lovely Mia Wallace demonstrating a fair but frowned-upon reaction to a syringe

The thing is, though - you get used to it. Like anything else.

For my first IUI, I couldn't get over the hilarity of the presentation. Imagine this: a large cooler arrives at your house filled with high-tech ice packs and boxes of syringe "pens." Sketchiness meets high-tech, right on your doorstop. Accoutrements include dozens of alcohol wipes and just what you've always dreamed of owning: your very own Sharps container. This is going to be fun!

The syringe pens go a long way in making this is as easy as possible. Old-school versions of this protocol included a lot more know-how on the part of the patient. But in 2012, I simply dial up my prescribed dose, grab a handful of tummy (not that I have a handful), and go for it.

Inserting the needle never hurts as much as you think it will. Sometimes there's a tiny drop of blood, but not often. Bruises are common, but as I said, you get used to them. If the worst part of this treatment were the actual injections, I'd be a happy girl. Here's what's not the worst part: not the needles, not the near-daily trips to the infertility clinic for "transvaginal" ultrasounds (if those sound familiar you're probably recalling these right-wing idiots), not the insemination itself, and not even the waiting for the positive or negative pregnancy test. The worst part (for me) is what's inside those needles, and how it makes me feel. That's what makes me dread the next injection. The prick and the ensuing bruise are manageable, but the 24-hour rollercoaster each one prompts inside my body is no joke.

Looking at my needle one night, full of dread

Here's the basic schedule: Every night for a week or so, I inject what in (very) layman's terms are basically steroids for my ovaries. This is why I have to have such frequent ultrasounds; the doctors are closely monitoring follicle growth and how the dosage is impacting number and size. Too many follices that are too large, and it's dangerous for me; too few and too small, and they'll increase my dosage. They're looking for way more and way bigger follicles than most of you reading this have in a regular cycle, but not so many that I'm in the hospital or auditioning for a reprisal of "Jon and Kate Plus Eight."

Looking back at my first IUI in January, I can now tell it was going to be a bust because I didn't hurt enough. My dosage was really low; the docs needed a baseline to see how my ovaries would react to the medication. I felt a little tired and crampy, but nothing terrible. By the time my dosage was doubled for my next two IUIs, I'd be flat on my back as much as possible. I become a swollen, aching, sore-to-the-touch patient with zero energy and zero clothes that fit. I try to keep a bra on at all times, because taking it off hurts so badly that it's not worth sleeping like a normal person. The fatigue is so strong I can barely keep my head up after 4 p.m. Concerts, dinners out, meetups with friends, all cancelled. I can barely get to work on the worst days. My sister asked me for a physical equivalent of the pain, and I told her it was like a heated metal corset being slowly cranked tighter... and tighter... and tighter... for a week.

Being weightless in a cold swimming pool over the 4th of July was the best feeling I'd had on the meds since January. I read nearly an entire novel floating in that pool. The minute I stepped out, though, the weight of my own body on itself was crushing. Also crushing: having to grimace and recover when your nephew jumps onto you for a hug; looking pregnant while trying desperately to be pregnant only not being pregnant; overhearing breastfeeding discussions and knowing that, no offense ladies, my boobs hurt about 100 times worse than yours do, only I'm not allowed to talk about them. (Thank goodness for forgiving dresses.)

But there is an end to it. The "steroid" regimen is never more than ten days. When the doctors think the time is right, I take the "trigger shot" that also arrived in my high-tech yet sketchy cooler to force ovulation in 24-48 hours. The day after the shot, we do the insemination. And then we wait. And my body ever so slowly tries to recover.

Champagne and Diarrhea, Take II

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Fri, 10 Aug 2012 19:22:00 +0000

More of my people from the best-named family portrait session ever. My mom just purchased a large canvas print for each of us, and I think I'm selecting the champagne photo for my print. It's just too good, and makes me grin every time I see it. But really... there are so many other great ones, too! Which would you choose?

(You're welcome for including the diaper explosion here. That photo is just plain awesome.)

Photos by Genie Leigh Photography.

Real words next week, promise. We're off for a quick night in New York with T's family and back on Saturday to work on a fun project. Happy, happy weekending!

Friday I'm in Love

noreply@blogger.com (Maggie) — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 13:37:00 +0000

Oh, Olympic fatigue. For two weeks, you ruin us with your late nights and your heart-stopping moments and your tears. Yet I wouldn't have it any other way. (GABBBBBBBBBY!!!!!!!) So while I'm bidding adieu to swimming and waving hello to track this weekend, I hope to also recharge my energy tank and maintain a happy-sleepy vibe all weekend long. No big plans, no big projects, just my guy and my cats, on the couch and in our neighborhood. Sounds perfectly mellow right about now. On to my picks for the week!

Dieter Braun Olympic Print

So much yes on this beauty. And wouldn't you know it'd look perfect in my upstairs hallway?

Sombrilla Sun Shade

Having just returned from a beach weekend myself, I'm loving the idea of these Sombrilla Sun Shades (hat tip to Remodelista), especially for families with kiddos in tow. Beach umbrellas are so bulky, and beach tents are such a pain to set up on a windy beach (my sister and I embarked on that comedy of errors last year, only to have poor Liam scraped by a blowing pole). These lovely sun shades, though, are simple, gorgeous, portable, and practical... what more do you need?

Sacre Bleu: A Comedy d'Art

I recently enjoyed the hell out of this book, and if you like abusdist comedic premises, you might, too. Christopher Moore has a bit of Tom Robbins to him, for those of you looking for a comparable author. He brings art legends (Renoir, Van Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec, Monet, so many more) to life and ties them together in the most improbable of ways. Part mystery, part thriller, part romance, part science fiction, part historical fiction... this book has everything except for a satisfying ending. (Although I think I might be alone on that note? Read it so we can discuss the ending. And cast the fantasy movie.) Ready yourself for awkward laughing-out-loud moments on trains and such. (Or from underneath your Sombrilla sun shade?) Note to DCers - this one's available in the library.

Freckled Citizen

New Orleans, and my comedy of errors

A new day + a new life

Landscaping our hearts out (thanks Mom!)

Goodbye, Grandpa

My black-tie guy

Pretty in Pink

Recommended reads

April (?), randomly

My latest, greatest soup

The worst and the best of it.

Oldie but goodie

Still here...

Salted Caramel Pie

Unfiltered

Eleanor gets kissed... and ID'd

Still kickin'

A new chapter.

Labor Day lemonade

Introducing Eleanor

Friday I'm in Love

Soothe me.

Lady-blogging, DC edition.

Needles (and what's inside them)

Champagne and Diarrhea, Take II

Friday I'm in Love