North vs. South

Yesterday we got the most awesome snow "storm" I've ever seen, only because it was the first of the season and it was in Atlanta. Big, fluffy, sticky flakes fell all afternoon. We walked (I waddled) with the dog a mile around the neighborhood and caught snowflakes on our tongues like elementary school kids. I don't have a waterproof coat big enough to fit around my belly, but the cold and wet was a small price to pay for such an unusual treat. It was a magical day.

The snow cleared up by at least 7 PM, and Ryan and I went out to dinner around 9, driving safely on roads that were perfectly clear by that time.

This morning I was working from home after a horrible night's sleep (perhaps Eggplant Parmesan doesn't induce labor but, rather, it prohibits sleep?) before my 11:15 AM midwife appointment. I planned to head into work after the appointment. I'm just under two weeks away from my due date and over a week and a half from my last appointment, so I have been eagerly anticipating this morning's visit.

A few moments ago, the midwife's receptionist called me -- from home -- to tell me that the office is closed today ... due to INCLEMENT WEATHER.

Um. What? REALLY? Do I really live here? I guess this is something else about which I can agree with the president.

Eggplant Parmesan

We learned in our childbirth class that eating spicy food is one way of naturally encouraging labor. Our instructor also passed along an Atlanta myth that one particular restaurant's eggplant Parmesan is nearly guaranteed to cause labor. We have since heard about this legend from countless other Atlantans. We've kept this in the back of our minds for some time now, of course. So when eggplant Parmesan came up in conversation unrelated to pregnancy earlier today, my craving kicked in and we naturally decided to head to Scalini's tonight to try their version.

I felt a little silly ordering the eggplant, but I did. The waitress asked me after she brought our check if we were there to try to have our baby soon, and I sheepishly admitted that we were (my due date is two weeks away). She took my name down and said that if I have the baby within 48 hours, we will get a Scalini's t-shirt for the little one and dinner for two for us.

I put no stock in this myth, but they sure seem to -- check out the wall of Scalini's babies' pictures on their website. It was fun to participate in a little bit of Atlanta legend, though.

Now I just have to digest all that food before I attempt to sleep...

Grandpa-to-be

The other evening, I called my dad on the way home from something or other to tell him that I had decided to buy a Garmin, inspired by the Christmas gift we kids chipped in to get for him, highly motivated by the number of times I've had to visit Google maps prior to driving anywhere and then getting lost anyway. (The great sense of direction I once thought I had has gone into hibernation here. Atlanta has a maze of poorly-marked winding roads that offer few alternate routes between destinations, there are no consistently visible landmarks, and the folks who named the roads needed lessons in creative writing. For example, 71 streets have a variant of "Peachtree" in their names.)

Dad had lectured me about driving and talking on the phone when we visited over Christmas, because he had heard recent studies comparing the dangers of talking on the phone while driving with that of drunk driving. (Another article about this came out on Reuters just this morning, in fact). I know that driving and talking on the phone is not a smart thing, but I always tend to think that OTHER PEOPLE are the ones who shouldn't do it. I justify a quick call here and there as "necessary," or longer calls (hopefully with my headset on) as good time management. I do know, though, that it's not a good practice and I need to stop.

So when my father heard that I was indeed driving and talking, he said without hesitation: "If you are driving then I'm going to have to hang up now, because it's the only responsible thing to do as the grandfather of your child." And he did. He hung up. It was pretty much the cutest thing in the world.

Breaking the Silence

Since I last posted about my last day working from home, we've been up to a lot. Just not a lot of writing:

• Visiting our new nephew Brennan in Baton Rouge. He was 3 weeks old at the time and sweet as can be. Pictures soon to follow (issues in uploading pics, see item below about home computing).
  
• Wrapping up my last week on-site at my former employer in Chicago. I stayed with Elizabunny and had a great dinner with Dad and Linda on Friday night.
  
• Eating lots of meat. Especially rotisserie chicken.
  
• Wondering what the future architecture of our home computing environment will be, given the relinquishment of my laptop to my former employer. The IBM Thinkpad is on the fritz and Ryan's desktop is inconveniently situated at present.
  
• Lots of sinus rinsing. Elizabunny was sick with a particularly nasty cold when I crashed on her living room floor. I have somehow escaped it ... so far.
  
• Marveling at the ultrasound of the baby girl we are expecting in March!
  
• Starting my new job here in Atlanta.
  
• Being grateful for my sister-in-law and her stash of maternity clothes that saved me during my first week at said new job.
  
• Finally changing the light bulbs over the front door (they burn out SO quickly) so that the trick-or-treaters will be able to see the skeleton/ghost hanging on our front door and know we're handing out the goods.
  
• Consuming an entire gallon of Garrett's popcorn cheese and caramel mix (which surprisingly is the same ridiculous price on line that it is in O'Hare).
  
• Realizing it's probably going to be less painful to vote on Tuesday than to stand in line at the ONE early voting center available in Dekalb county.
  
• Thinking about volunteering at the Obama office in Decatur on Monday evening.
  

The Highlight of the Game

I am going to post a longer story about our weekend adventures, which included great seats at a depressing Bears game here in Atlanta at some point soon. But I couldn't wait to share that the highlight of the game was the result of the "In-Game Voting" presidential poll, via text message.

Southern Smell

Ryan ran to the grocery store on Sunday evening while I worked (again). I had asked him to pick up a few personal items for me while he was there. One of them was Secret Platinum deodorant (the only deodorant that seems to work for me). It comes in a bazillion scents; I left that choice up to him, since he sometimes doesn't like the scents that I choose.

Knowing how I feel about all things too southern, Ryan came home with the perfect choice: Southern Peach.

By the way, Ryan is blogging.

We Aren't Kidding about this Thing

Ryan and I had breakfast with another couple on Sunday at The Flying Biscuit. We weren't sure we should really waste our gasoline on a non-essential trip. But breakfast cravings won out.

We then stopped by a baby furniture store that I'd been wanting to visit, because it wasn't too far out of the way. It was closed. Needing to feel like we're doing SOMETHING to prepare for this child's arrival, we set off for Babies R Us, which was admittedly a little far away. Before long, we got stuck in yet another traffic jam caused by long lines at a gas station.

We changed our minds about the shopping therapy and headed home. Wondering when this will ease up. Public transportation in Atlanta, in a word, sucks. Our local Kroger is 2.5 miles away. By car this takes us under ten minutes. According to Google's new-ish public transportation directions, the same one-way trip, on a roundabout route, would take about half an hour on Marta, including nearly a mile of walking. This would do in a pinch, but this gas shortage has certainly underlined for me what was formerly just a nagging guilt about all the damn driving we do around here.

This morning, USA Today published an update; one particular quote was pretty interesting to me:

The Southeast, the only region of the nation that has no oil refining or major gasoline storage capacity, pumps all of its gasoline in by pipeline, [Kenneth Medlock, energy fellow at the Baker Institute, a non-partisan public policy think tank at Rice University in Houston] said.

How could the only section of the nation with no oil refining or major gasoline storage capacity ... also evolve into a section of the nation with the least adequate public transportation?

Running on Empty

Since I work from home, I've been fairly sheltered from the gas shortage in Atlanta that appears to have no end in sight. I didn't initially believe Ryan when he called me from work earlier this week, advising that I fill up as soon as possible; the lines at the pumps were snaking into the streets.

I figured I'd wait as long as possible to fill up, hoping the supply once met by pipelines emptied by Ike could be recovered by the time I'd need to replenish my supply.

I recklessly drove to yoga this morning on 3/16 of a tank. Most gas stations I passed resembled an apocalypse movie set. During savasana, the many thoughts I tried to push from my consciousness included, "Where will I find gas?" and, "Will I make it home?"

Fellow students assured me there was gas at the BP just down the road. I attempted to make a stop, but the line was at least 20 cars long, and the cops directing traffic in and around the station were none too friendly. I still had nearly 3/16 of a tank, so I headed home, planning to stop somewhere with slightly shorter lines... if I could find it.

Luckily, I did. I waited only about ten minutes, behind three others cars. Lines had formed behind each side of each pump, so the cars in each line were waiting for both pumps on that side. When I stepped out to swipe my credit card, I noticed that the line I'd quickly shot through had since doubled in size.

I also noticed that a woman had pulled up in front of me, facing me, hoping to bypass the line behind me. I pointed towards her, then towards the end of the line, to indicate that she had to wait on line like the rest of us. She didn't flinch. A hand-scribbled sign adorned the pump urging customers to purchase, at a maximum, eight gallons. I obeyed, and as I took my receipt (surprisingly "cheap" at only $32.99) I again indicated to the woman attentively poised in front of me that she needed to take a number. Again, no reaction. I gave up and pulled away and noticed happily that there was also a car behind me that moved in faster than Ms. Cheater's did. I didn't bother to stay to witness any ensuing drama -- my gas was too precious.

I realize this story is pretty anti-climactic. I just get disappointed when fellow humans behave so selfishly. I'd hope that a common crisis would bring us together, but when it comes down to our basic everyday needs, which in this day and age in a city like Atlanta includes gasoline, it's apparently every woman for herself.

2.5 Things I Like about Atlanta

I just got back from a quick walk around the neighborhood with the dog. I took nearly two months off of all exercise during my first trimester. I was feeling so nauseated all of the time that it was all I could do to just watch TV. So I've been trying to motivate and get back into my yoga and walking routine. I'd like to add swimming back in as well, but I'm focusing on those two things first.

It's 73 degrees out and the sky is crystal blue. It nearly reminds me of fall days in Colorado, albeit more humid. I couldn't help but be reminded today that I really do like the fall and spring here. This led me to start creating my mental List of Things I Like About Atlanta. I thought I'd post the start of this list to partially make up for all those times when everybody gets sick of hearing me complain about how much I miss Chicago:

Things I Like About Atlanta
1. Fall
2. Spring

I must interject here that I also love fall and spring in Chicago. However, fall and spring in Chicago are far more fleeting than fall and spring in Atlanta, so I think Atlanta wins the battle for best transitional seasons.

Number 2.5 on my list: Winter.

It only counts for half a point because the winters here are much easier than up north, but I do tend to miss the cold and snow. My Chicago friends tell me I missed one of the roughest winters on record last year, whereas Ryan and I went hiking in t-shirts in February. But I was giddy with delight when it snowed here on my birthday last winter - I imagined it was a gift from the Snow Queen herself. I got the camera out. I felt like a real southerner for that part.

I also really dislike summer here -- but I didn't like it in my former city of residence, either. It's only a few degrees hotter here than on average there. I just do not like heat and humidity. If I had to pick a place to live in summer, it would be Colorado. You can bet I have counted my blessings that I don't have to go through the later months of pregnancy in summer!

(It always comes back to the pregnancy. Sorry about that.)

Why?

I used to travel every single week to my client sites when I was a consultant. My last gig took me from Chicago to San Francisco, Monday through Thursday. There wasn't much to complain about those trips except for the sheer length of the flights and the the bad food (American Airlines served meals, then, and I ordered the vegetarian meal which was most frequently sandwich garnish in a whole wheat pita pocket, with nary a bite of protein nestled within). My flights were rarely delayed, however, and though I left home early and got back late, I normally arrived on time.

Now that I fly from Atlanta to Chicago ONCE A MONTH for my job, however, I am delayed nearly every time I fly. The last three trips were delayed, in fact. And so is the flight I was supposed to have boarded 20 minutes ago. We may embark in 40 minutes. There goes coffee with dad after he picks me up at the airport.