You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2007.
Our invincible cat is named Waylon. She spends her days bloodying Faucet’s long snout, tearing apart gophers, and bullying cats twice her size. Today, she had a rare moment of vulnerability when Blase found her perched atop a telephone pole. She was too high for us to reach. We couldn’t find our friend, the fire chief, so we called our dear friend, Drew. He’s our Macgyver (remember that show?) and can solve most perplexing problems.
He arrived like a superhero with gear in hand – climbing harness, rope, gloves, and a cat kennel. Waylon was rescued and returned to her busy schedule, damaged pride and all.
See the death-defying photo..
When a Petrolia resident has a baby, a decorative paper diaper is pinned to the bulletin board outside the store announcing all the vital stats people always want to know about (time of birth, gender, name, length, and weight). Nola now has a diaper on the bulletin board.
Not sure if I’ve mentioned the bulletin board before… it’s where we go to get our news. All upcoming events and various announcements are posted there. It’s part of our daily ritual to drive to the post office and collect our mail before checking the bulletin board for news. If you linger at the bulletin board or its accompanying bench long enough, you are sure to chat with folks you know and get some live gossip, too. The juiciest stuff, aka gossip, doesn’t make it onto the bulletin board; though the news on the bulletin board inevitably sparks speculation, conversation, and sentences beginning with “I heard.. ” (aka gossip). Turns out there is a very fine, fuzzy, and meandering line between “news” and “gossip” in a small town like this. More on this later….
Here’s a photo of the diaper, the store, downtown (aka the store), and the bulletin board and its bench.
We weathered a two-day drive from San Francisco to Petrolia with a newborn, a toddler, a sore perinneum, and two tired parents. Our big VW wagon has suddenly grown very cramped. The girls did great and we even had some honeymoon moments of quiet grown-up time when they did tandem napping on the freeway.
We found Petrolia and the Mattole Valley much more lush than we’d left it, just a month before. Spring had arrived and the landscape was enlivened.
We were greeted by hugs, balloons, and streamers. It felt good to be home as our wistful thoughts of San Fran began to fade.
After 70 hours of laboring, baby Nola has finally emerged. She is, of course, beautiful with her little conehead and furry ears. The other great thing is, I’m no longer pregnant!!! Lots to celebrate… healthy baby, healthy mom, relatively intact toddler/sibling, successful VBAC, amazing support from friends and family, and I’m no longer pregnant (did I mention that already?).
I won’t go into the seemingly endless birth story in detail but will list a few highlights:
– We kept trying to watch a terrible movie, “big mama’s house” to distract ourselves during early labor as instructed by our doula. We only got as far as Martin Lawrence snapping on his big mama suit. Everytime we hit play, we would be interrupted by a contraction at which point I would yell, “turn it off!”- then we’d moan through the contraction, debrief, get situated, drink some water, press play again – only to be interrupted by another one. I finally finished watching the movie on Nola’s 5 week birthday – just to get some closure and to confirm that it was in fact a bad movie.
– Mom, Blase, and Jen had to eat their meals on the fire escape because my bionically heightened sense of smell compelled me to banish their maloderous pasta and sandwiches from the apartment.
– Sneaking truffles and ham into my mouth when the hospital staff were out of the room (laboring women are not supposed to eat at UCSF).
– When it was time to push, Blase very sweetly asked if I’d like him at my head to provide comfort and support. I desperately yelled, ” coffee breath!!!!!!” as he whispered his question. I was not capable of saying anything else, but my survival seemed to depend on the absence of coffee breath, so Blase held my leg instead.
life on the lost coast 