My Wife Is Trying To Kill Me

Recently I had some bloodwork done at a routine doctor appointment.

Now, I'm not the most healthy person when it comes to eating: 'hot, fried and fast' beats out 'green, healthy and requiring preparation' on a scale of the tortoise versus the hare in a footrace. But after getting my bloodwork results back, I realized that much like the fable, the tortoise is going to have to win this one, too.

While my cholesterol was somewhat high, my triglycerides were... through the roof. Which was interesting, because I had no idea I even had them, let alone know what they even do. To me, they sound like the final ingredient in a deadly bomb fashioned by Dr. Evil. But apparently they have something to do with poor eating habits, lots of sugar, and having once owned an 'Air Supply' album.

So, in the interest of... living... I decided to radically amend my diet. Salome and I went shopping the other day, and I scrutinized EVERY item we bought. Cholesterol, sodium, sugar... if it was low, we bought it. Hello, oatmeal, breakfast bars and bananas. Yum.

This morning I awoke to find that Salome had cooked up some orange-cinnamon buns with that gooey frosting that oozes deliciously. Having made 8, she took 2, and instructed me to take the rest.

I then started hunting through our paperwork to see if she had secretly taken an insurance policy out on me.

Now, I don't know if Triglycerides can kill you per se (Coroner: 'Poor guy. Done in by triglycerides.'
Detective: 'Right. We're taking a hard look at the guy's wife.'), but it seems that reasonable precautions should be taken.

But since the time that we have received the test results back, Salome has:

- encouraged me to finish the ice cream in the freezer
- cooked a rice, beans and kielbasa dinner, encouraging me to 'finish' the foot-long kielbasa, minus the two inch cut she took for herself
- Sent me to the grocery to pick up frozen pizza, and expressed bafflement when I returned with said pizza for her and a chicken breast with brown rice for myself
- Keeps trying to give me hot chocolate

In fairness to Salome, she IS very pregnant, and oftentimes craves sweet things. Moreover, given that a baby is pressing against her stomach, she gets full rather quickly. So, I get the lion's share of the junk food that we eat. So, while I can't accuse her outright of trying to do me in, I suspect that all of this is just her patient way of setting herself up with an alibi:

Salome: *Sniff*... I didn't know that lard-encrusted donuts were dangerous, detective. I was pregnant. I was craving. I didn't think they'd be fatal!!!

Detective: I understand, Mrs. R----. My wife was the same way. I'm truly sorry for your loss.

Salome: *Stiffling a sob*. Thank you, detective. It came as such a shock. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to call the insurance company.

If you are reading this, and something should happen to me... ooh, donuts.

Random Thoughts

- Saw a morbidly obese person getting out of a car she had parked in a handicapped stall. Seems to me it ought to be the other way around: shouldn't fat people be required to park at the end of the lot, so they at least get a little exercise?

- Debated about getting a 'Baby on Board' bumper sticker, once the baby comes. Then it dawned on me: no one ever drives more carefully when they see this. It only explains why YOU are driving like an idiot.

- An entertainment news magazine started an article saying 'Paris Hilton's fans...'. Baffling. Doesn't one need a particular talent in order to have fans???

*Twiddling Thumbs

So far, throughout these past 5 unemployed days, I've gone through just about every mental state imaginable. Based on Kubler-Ross' 5 stages of grief, I've gone from denial/shock to anger, depression and acceptance. Somewhere in there I'm supposed to 'bargain' as well, but in this present situation I'm not sure what to bargain for, unless it means taking a few things to a pawn-shop or selling one of the cats' kidneys.

One thing I hadn't counted on (and which isn't one of the five stages of grieving) is the 'mind-numbing boredom with an explicable craving for Cheetos' stage I am currently in.

It makes sense, though: for the past few years, my days were all pretty much pre-planned. Granted, it was a wacky enough business that you had to improvise at times, but if you had meetings scheduled, you attended them. If you planned to target an area that day, you... er... targetted it. What I mean to say is that overall, you had a plan, and that dictated your time throughout the day.

Now unemployed, that means my raison d'etre has lost its 'raison', and I'm left with the 'etre' part. I've got to have goals, a plan, a reason for being- while simulatneously knowing that it won't bring in any income anyway.

So, in an effort to combat this awful ennui, as well as give me a sense of purpose and 'raison d'etre' (my high school French is certainly coming in handy during this post, isn't it?), I have given myself the following goals to accomplish during this time of unemployment. While technically 'inactive', by golly, I'm going to be proactive!!!

Please note: these goals are not in any particular order

Goal #1: Eat a zillion M&M's

Goal #2: Dissect and analyze every Will Ferrell movie for the hidden, underlying meaning

Goal #3: Pretend we're still in election season, and campaign furiously for Ralph Nader

Goal #4: Take that course in macrame that I always wanted to do, but never had time

Goal #5: Grow a wicked handle-bar moustache

Goal #6: Dress the cats in silly costumes and post pictures to the web

Goal #7: Burn ants with a magnifying glass (weather permitting)

Goal #8: Apply for jobs that are far outside my skill set (e.g. Physics Professor- MIT), and then send nasty follow-up emails asking why they haven't called me for an interview

Goal #9: Find a suitable answer to Pink's existential question 'So What?'

Goal #10: Develop the skill of rubbing my belly and patting my head at the same time

If, during this time, you need to get in contact with me, please call and leave a message. As you can see, I am going to be quite busy for the time being.

The Light... Don't Go Towards the Light!!!

Whoever coined the phrase 'a light at the end of the tunnel' ought to be spanked, because it's a phrase that gives hope to the listener.

In actual fact, however, that 'light at the end of the tunnel' can sometimes be an oncoming train.

For those who have been keeping 'up' on things, you may know that the last 4 months have been difficult for Salome and I. One issue after another has been piled on to our lives that have left us terrified and feeling as if we are without any mooring. And just when you think that things can't get any worse, they suddenly do.

Yesterday, I joined the ranks of the rising percentage of unemployed workers in America, adding that little tidbit to our ever growing pile of worries. And this one... it's a doozy. Yup, that light at the end of a tunnel WAS a train.

But here's the thing: I'm suddenly not scared anymore.

The night before receiving this ghastly news, Salome and I had a shocking fight that was several months overdue. No need to go into the details, other than to say that I had been a complete and utter ass over the past four months- right at the time when my wife needed me the most. During these last four months, I have been angry, resentful, and most of all, terrified. This has caused me to withdraw into my own self. She has felt the exact same way during this time, which caused her to reach out for a husband who wasn't there.

But before coming to this realization, as we stood there yelling at one another, a sudden thought came rushing into my mind: what was this stress I was putting on Salome doing to the baby???

I suddenly became terrified and- in that instance, I believe- became a real father. She and I cried together that night, and held each other into the small hours of the morning.

So I awake, and begin work, only to get the call from my CEO with the news. Gut kick. Panic attack. I am pleased to report, however, that there was no shameless pleading.

Here's why: it is what it is. Externally we are at the mercy of circumstances: the economy, the culture, the decisions of those in authority. These are the things over which I have no control.

But I am not powerless, because there are things I CAN control: I can be a better person. I can be a better husband, a better expectant father. I CAN give my wife the love and support she deserves, and I can look for what is good in this 4 month package of what I had always thought was 'bad'. There is opportunity here, and in this time I can do the things that are right.

Although this is terrifying, this feeling of being cast adrift, perhaps there is one of the greatest blessings of all attached to it: time with my beautiful wife and growing child. To be there fully as a support and cognizant of the blessing that is coming. Perhaps this happened now so that I can fully participate in the things that really matter, being there and living in every moment.

I am sorry, Salome, for being so dense.

PS- I STILL hate trains, though.

Nesting

The day is drawing close now.

This much anticipated arrival, this long-awaited appearance by Donovan/Auden (what if it's a hermaphodite? Thoughts like these keep me up at night. Not that we might have a dual-sex baby- but rather, if we do, what the heck do we call it: 'Donden'? 'Audovan?') seems to be hurtling towards us now with all the speed of a major league fastball.

As an impending father, I find myself caught between two ways of thinking. The first is, of course, impatience. Is 9 months really necessary? Can't we cut it off at, say, 8? Is there an extra hormone bath that occurs in the 9th month that makes the wait necessary? I mean, aren't we overdoing it just a tiny bit? It's like a pizza, or cookies: if it comes out not completely browned it's still just as delicious, right?

The second, however, is immensely much more practical, if not (at times) more hysterical. It's the side that takes the longer view. It's an odd juxtaposition, this practical hysteria. At various times in the day I will find myself thinking 'Holy ----!!!! This kid is coming quickly!' And run through the checklist in my head of all the things that need to be done.

But then there is the practical side that spills out, and runs directly in conflict with the mother's internal instinct of nesting.

In other words, the parents have two separate conversations going on:

Male, panicking (at 6 weeks out):
- Must look at health insurance policy and determine coverage
- Request from work that no travel be required past the date of --/--/2008
- Start attending wife's medical appointments and ask pertinent questions like 'Now, what's a baby again?'
- Talk with other new dads and determine sleep-to-work ratio, to assess productivity
- Enter directions to hospital into MapQuest or navigation system to insure smooth transfer
- Uh... weren't we supposed to take a 'Lamaze' class or something somewhere in there?

Female, nesting (at 6 weeks out)
- Daily monitor gift-shower registry to see what's coming, and plan accordingly
- Get husband to move a heavy chest of drawers into the baby's room because 'it matches'
- Stand immobile in the baby's room for hours at a time, assessing the impact the chosen colors may have on the baby's psyche
- Drag husband on a Sunday afternoon to 'hell-o-rama' (Babies 'R Us) to purchase playpak and pampers because we 'need to have these things for when the baby comes' which is, as has already been pointed out, 6 weeks away.

So, at this point we now have bedroom ready for a baby (except for soothing butt-cream to assuage diaper rash, which I'm assuming we'll pick up next Sunday afternoon). If the stork were to drop one in our arms right now, we'd be pretty much set to go, with one or two minor things that we missed and could easily be picked up at a local drugstore.

And in regards to the above nesting priorities, I am looking at each one of them and thinking of a rational explanation as to why these things need to be done now.

Practically, I am realizing how much work lies ahead of us, and shouldn't we be spending this time indulging in our favorite activities (eg, napping) because for the next 18 years we can pretty much kiss those things goodbye? Do we really have to postpone the enjoyment of watching football on Sunday afternoon to pick up pampers at this point?

Turns out, the answer to that last question is 'yes'.

I'm learning.

My Suspicion of the Day

If McCain says 'My friends...' one more time, I am going to think it is a rhetorical device, and that he doesn't really consider me one of his friends.

Getting Political

Since my last blog, detailing the nuances of politician-talk, was met with considerable acclaim (one person responded with a comment, and I happened to be married to her), and since the very future of our country, economy, and our freedom to yell 'COCKROACH!!!" in a crowded theater is at stake (Shouting 'FIRE' in a theater is illegal, unless you happen to be watching 'Shrek: The Musical, in which case you'd be doing everyone a favor), I thought I'd delineate those people who will be voting in this upcoming election. Regardless of what vote you cast, these will be the fools you're going up against.

PARTISIAN VOTERS: These are the individuals who cannot 'see the forest for the trees'. Regardless of character, position, opinion or even whether they are capable of thinking, partisian voters will always cast a ballot for their party's nominee. Never mind the fact that parties change philosophies and stances from time to time: if your party is for 'it', so shall you vote for 'it'. For example, in the matter of slavery, it was actually the Republicans who supported Emancipation (Ashley, Sumner), aided only by one Democrat (Henderson).

This is the same party that would later elect Strom Thurmond (NC) to the Senate, who switched from Democrat to Republican after expressing disgust at the Civil Rights movement. This was a senator whom, as the venerable Wikipedia points out: 'Throughout the 1960s, Thurmond generally received relatively low marks from the press and his fellow Senators in the performance of his Senate duties, as he often missed votes and rarely proposed or sponsored noteworthy legislation.'

Character? Courage? Conviction? Um... only if my party says it's okay.

SINGLE ISSUE VOTERS: These are the voters who are so singularly focused on one political issue that they cannot- 'in good conscience'- vote for anyone else if it opposes their viewpoint, despite the fact that their views are in line with the opponent all the way down to... that single, critical issue. Example:

Candidate's stance:
WAR- Bad
ECONOMY- Needs work
HEALTH CARE- A darn good idea
FISHING OR HUNTING WITHOUT A LICENSE: punishable by death
TAXATION: Cut 'em. Let's see a big screen HDTV in every home in America
'IFFY' ON ABORTION: 'Rot in HELL, you fetus-murdering badger!'

Result: The putative forerunner is dismissed, Al Gore is elected in a landslide, and his entire administration is dedicated to providing air conditioning for polar bears and penguins.

APPEARANCE VOTERS: In 1960, Richard 'Tricky-Dick' Nixon was running for president against the fresh-faced brat from Massachusetts, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Coincidentally, John F. Kennedy was also running for president against Richard Nixon, which made things very convenient for the voter.

Unlike now, when presidential debates are limited to three (given our shart attention span), Nixon and Kennedy agreed to a series of four debates. What set these debates apart were that they would be televised: the first ever for a presidential debate. Nixon, having recently recovered from a rather lame injury, refused to take time away from campaigning to have a facial done. Or get some sleep. Moreover, on the night of the debate he refused to wear make-up, not wanting to appear... well... gay. Kennedy had no such reservations, and welcomed having his cheeks rouged, thus indicating that he was courting the 'in-the-closet-crossdressing' demographic.

Given his injury, his active campaigning up until a few hours of the debate, and his refusal to wear make-up, Nixon looked haggard and worn during the event. Not that he wasn't on top of his game: people who had listened to the debate on the radio- as opposed to that 'talking-picture box'- felt that he had won the debate. Those watching on TV, however, felt differently. Sweating profusely, looking exhausted, and with a 5 o'clock shadow, Nixon took Kennedy on. However, a rested, tan and 'pancaked and rouged' Kennedy looked scrum-delly-licious to viewers, and the consensus of the TV viewers was that Kennedy won the debate. He had been lagging slightly in the polls until then, but with the novelty of that 'talky-box', Kennedy pulled slightly ahead and eventually won. Slightly. Nixon suspected voter fraud, but unwisely did not suspect Florida, which has managed to botch every single election since.

The moral of the story is that there will be those who- with no understanding of the issues at stake- will vote for the candidate that is 'cuter'. What, you think McCain picked Palin because she was bright?

I VOTE THE CANDIDATE, NOT THE PARTY: Lordy, this sounds good. People who are willing to listen to what each candidate has to say. Wants to view their stance on issues. Hear their proposed solutions. Dis-regard the attack ads sway that try and sway them one way or the other ('McCain has a record of always voting for the wrong thing.' 'Yeah? Well Obama has a record of barely voting!!!').

The trouble with these people- of which I am one- are that they are the ones who really decide the election (Spoiler: I've since decided, unless one of them has the bright idea of spreading our military out even further, and wants to invade Canada. Or cut taxes to corporations on the off-chance that they might use that revenue to keep jobs here in America, rather than using those gains to build manufacturing plants in countries whose name the average American can't pronounce and whose average workforce age is about 12. Oops. Guess I gave that one away).

They are the Missouri-ans, the 'Show-Me' crowd, who don't get excited at balloons dropping from the ceiling at conventions. They want answers, solutions, a course of direction. They won't mind someone who's 'anti-gun' if they're 'pro-education'. They won't require a candidate stand against Roe v. Wade (which will never be overturned anyway) if they're also for fiscal responsibility. There's give and take in politics- a weighing against the lesser of evils, or of the good and the better. They are the gray ones, who refuse to see things in black-and-white because they know (usually from bitter experience) that very few things are that way.

It is they- and not George Dubya- that are the Deciders, and God grant them wisdom come November.