Excuses

So, all I have to say for myself is that IEP season kicked my ass but good.

I’m still sorting it out, and there will be details. And I know that blogging will probably make me feel good after I do it, kind of like exercise, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to sit down and do it. (Blog. Or exercise, either.)

I don’t want this blog to be All Autism, All the Time, but that’s kind of how things have felt around here lately, so instead I’m silent.

And yet—there’s been so much good stuff, too. The extra time I’ve been able to spend with my boys since our nanny quit. The fact that my mom is here to lend a hand, and she makes the best piña coladas on this planet. The unbelievable progress Secondo has made lately. Firing up the grill on cool evenings for no real reason and enjoying time on the patio with a nice glass of white wine. Work, even, because it’s always interesting.

I might have to ease back into things with some fluff. Jump-start the blog and see what happens.

Thanks

Thanks you all--both my IRL friends and my friends in the computer--for your comments on my last post. (I left that support group meeting thinking, "Damn, I wish I could go have coffee with Kal and Christine.") I think people who blog regularly know this, but I hadn't quite realized just how much better I would feel once I posted about that meeting. Kal's comment provided some food for thought, too. This is Secondo's teacher's very first year teaching, so she's very enthusiastic and caring, and she is just so good with him. I don't even want to think about him moving up a class next year.

The flip side of the meeting was that it led to a discussion of IEPs that I found incredibly useful, especially since we will be redoing Secondo's next month. I need to walk into this one prepared.

My brain is mush right now, but I just wanted to say thanks.

New Gigs

Given my, shall we say, lack of rigor when it comes to posting on my own blog, you might be surprised to hear I will be contributing to two new blogs. What can I say--I work well when I need to meet a deadline set by someone else. Also, they're Latina-oriented blogs, and I like them very much.

You can find my most recent post at Mi Cielito Lindo here, if you're interested. It's a short list of the catchy Latino music I listen to with my kids when I just can't take another minute of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" or "Los pollitos dicen." It's inspired me to create an iMix, which I'll post later if I can figure out how to do it.

Reentry

We made it home, and everyone is healthy, happy, and sleeping through the night.

Our plane was delayed a couple of hours, so we missed our connection. Secondo and I were seated behind a nasty couple who complained to the flight attendant when Secondo had a dirty diaper right before takeoff (exact quote: "Gawd, don't you have an extra diaper? 'Cause your kid smells like CRAP."), and then again when Secondo kicked the seat in front of him a few times before I stopped him by putting up his tray table. I don't think I would have been so upset by the whole thing if it hadn't been for the fact that my kids were being SO GOOD. It was a long flight. Sigh.

We made it home at 2 a.m. I checked my messages to find out where I was supposed to be working that morning and found out it was a murder trial. I stopped by the cafeteria on my way upstairs, and one sip of the harsh, institutional coffee jolted me back to reality. I drank it anyway, to get rid of the throbbing headache, and at least it worked.

I expected to find the results of Primo's evaluation waiting for me when I got back. Instead, there was a ten-day-old message from the speech therapist on the answering machine asking me to call her so she could ask me a few more questions.

I put a huge dent in the driver's side of the car when I scraped past a barrier at a gas station on my way back from a birthday party on Saturday, which was both frustrating and really embarrassing because I was in the middle of telling my passenger all about how my driving KICKS ASS. P, to his credit, reacted by telling me in mock exasperation, "Don't you know all dents are supposed to be on the passenger's side?!" That side is, indeed, seriously dented. The most frustrating thing is that now guys in parking lots all over the DC metro area will probably not stop trying to get me to pay them to punch out the dents in my car.

Slowly getting back into the swing of things. More to come.

Copos

My love of granizados, or copos, as they're called in Costa Rica, goes back to when I was a little girl. In fact, one of my most vivid memories from when we had just moved here is of losing my copos money at school. I was in the third grade at our local public school for a few months and was teased mercilessly, mostly because of my gringuita accent. Those were such difficult months for me, having been suddenly uprooted and dropped into a foreign country, having to wear a school uniform, make new friends and adjust to making Spanish my primary language, but somehow a copo made everything all better at the end of the day. The day I lost my money, I cried all the way home.

Back then, they were sold by vendors who had little pushcarts. On the carts were strings of bells, and like the ice cream man, you could hear them coming blocks away. Inside the cart was a block of ice, which they shaved with a metal box-like contraption--the sound of the scraping of the ice is one I'll never forget. On top of the cart were bottles of flavored syrup and condensed milk, which was drizzled on top if you wanted a granizado con leche. And a bag of powdered milk if you wanted dos leches, for a price, of course, but dos leches was the only way to go. My tío N found granizados repulsive, because the señor de los copos touched the ice, money, and God-knows-what-else with his hands--¡qué asco!--but I sure didn't care.

I think the señor de los copos may be a thing of the past, but I still make a point to indulge when I'm here. Some places make them in slushee machines (bleh), others crush ice to perfection with a machine. A layer of ice, a layer of powdered milk, another layer of ice, syrup, and sweetened condensed milk on top--it's amazing to me how a copo can still make me feel like things are all better.

I'm Still Here. Really.

Except where I am is here:












The not-so-great part is that both Primo and P were terribly sick the day we flew, then Secondo got sick, and both of the boys have been having Major Sleep Issues, the likes of which we had not experienced for a long time. So my fantasies of leisurely catching up on blogging on the terraza while sipping piña coladas and reading one of the three books I optimistically brought with me have been replaced by fantasies of sleeping, anywhere, anytime, and preferably as soon as possible. And preferably, also, without a kicking, screaming toddler in bed with me.

Seriously, though, it's beautiful. Being with my family in the house where I grew up, or on the beach at my mother's, seeing familiar faces, eating gallo pinto and granizados, it takes the edge off the exhaustion. (As does the hard liquor we bought at the duty-free store. And the fact that I'm on vacation, so I can go ahead and make myself a rum and coke at noon if I damn well please.)

Look! A Blogroll!

[Edited to add: The blogroll on the left looks pretty puny. I'll add more blogs as I think of them.]

All the posting I did this November seems to have jump-started the impulse to blog again. Even though I've been blogging for a year, I sure have been lackadaisical about it, and now I'm remembering how fun it is when I actually do it instead of thinking, "Oh, I should update my blog. Or I could wait another week. Or month."

So, in the spirit of getting my act together already, here is my blogroll. I keep tabs on many blogs via Google Reader, even though I'm constantly adding and deleting. These blogs, however, I've been following since the beginning, and deserve special mention. In alphabetical order, except for the first one, here's my short list:

Snickollet. I clicked on a random link one day and freaked the hell out when I realized my old friend was a rock-star blogger. All I can say is this: Even if I didn't know her in real life, I would be such a fangirl. To those of you who come here from her blog, she's an even more amazing person than you already think she is. To those of you who arrived via somewhere else, if you click on that link, you will not stop until you've read her entire archives.

KAL at Autism Twins. Because I can so relate to mothers of twins, but especially to mothers of twin boys. Because reading her blog makes me feel like I'm not alone. Because her boys are as cute as all get-out. And they happen to have autism.

Carrie at Bilingual in the Boonies. Because as a businesswoman, I think I could stand to take a few lessons from her. Because I wish I'd found her Los Pollitos onesies when my boys were still small enough to wear them. But mostly because she has an entire blog category devoted to dulce de leche. And because thanks to her, I was spared the disillusionment of finding out that dulce de leche Pop Tarts feel like regret. Carrie, thank you.

Christine at Day Sixty-Seven. Because I feel like I could have written her first few posts, just not as well. Because this post explains exactly what I'm feeling right now.

Faces of Autism, which is exactly what you think it is. I'm trying to find the right picture of Secondo to send in. I look at the faces of the kids on this blog and I see nothing but joy, which is as I think it should be.

Latin Baby Book Club. It's as if I thought to myself, "I wish I could find a group of great women who shared my passion for children's books in Spanish and could recommend new books." Then, poof! This blog appeared.

Stimey at Stimeyland. Another mom of boys, one of whom is autistic. When Secondo licked the chairs at his big appointment, I was thinking of this post. And this post about growing up with a brother with special needs made me cry and made me feel so positive about the boys my toddlers will become.

Karen at Teaching and Learning Spanish. Because she's constantly on the lookout for Spanish-language resources, and I've learned a lot from her. Soon, I will introduce my boys to Pocoyo!

The Local Dialect. Through this blog, I get to visit China. Also, baby Dylan is one of the most adorable babies I've ever seen.

Thank you, ladies. Others may come and go. But I'm keeping you all on my blogroll.

Going Out With a Whimper

So, next year I will not be so naive as to think that I will actually post every day in November. However, I would like to point out that I will have posted 21 times this year, up 3 posts from last year. That's about 66.66 of the time, according to my calculations. (P will give me the exact figure as soon as he reads this post. I, on the other hand, am all about approximations.)

It's a cop-out, I know, but I'm going to end the month with a one-word meme I saw and liked. It's kind of amazing I didn't resort to more memes this month, anyway, so I'm not feeling too bad about this one.

1. Where is your cell phone? Purse
2. Your significant other? Kitchen
3. Your Hair? Curly
4. Your Skin? Dry
5. Your mother? Firecracker
6. Your favorite thing? Sons
7. Your dream last night? None
8. Your favorite drink? Wine
9. Your dream/goal? Happiness
10. The room you’re in? Living room
11. Your ex? None
12. Your fear? Loss
13.Where do you want to be in 6 years? Here
14.Where were you last night? Home
15.What you’re not? High-strung
16.Muffins? Bran
17.One of your wish list items? Wii
18.Where you grew up? Costa Rica
19.The last thing you did? Ate
20.What are you wearing? Fleece
21.Your TV? Huge
22.Your pets? None
23. Your computer? Mac
24. Your life? Busy
25. Your mood? Mellow
26. Missing someone? Family
27. Your car? Dented
28. Something you’re not wearing? Makeup
29. Favorite Store? Ross
30. Your summer? Humid
31. Like someone? P
32. Your favorite color? Blue
33. When is the last time you laughed? Tonight
34. Last time you cried? Tonight

Things That Are Long Overdue

So, I was sick a couple of weeks ago. So sick that I had to cancel work, which I'd only done once before in nine years. I only canceled because I was physically unable to interpret--if I'd had a desk job that didn't require that I talk nonstop for half an hour every hour, I probably would have toughed it out. And on the day I stayed home, I started having trouble breathing, but I decided to wait and see if things got better the next day. I used to have allergic wheezing fits as a teenager that put me in the ER every so often, so this didn't seem that bad.

Things weren't better the next day, so I called my PCP and made a same-day appointment for later in the morning. I only did it because this time work had canceled on me, and the boys' nanny was at the house, so there was nothing standing in my way. And even then, I wheezed and coughed my way through Primo's parent-teacher conference before my appointment. (His teachers didn't seem to notice. As P said the other day, they don't exactly give me the warm fuzzies.) The short walk there and back had me gasping at my front door.

I made it to my physician's office, and after the nurse took my blood pressure three times because she thought her reading must be wrong, people in the office dropped everything and came running. A nebulizer treatment brought it way down. I was given a breathing test, an inhaler, antibiotics, and a chest x-ray. In the end, it was bronchitis, not pneumonia. My doctor patted me on the shoulder and gave me a little pep talk as I was about to leave. "I can't believe that not coming today was an option," I told her.

Not exactly a near-death experience, but it kind of shocked me into action. When I went back the next week for follow-up, I scheduled a physical. My last one was about six years ago, even though I've had a couple of issues I should have had checked out. I've packed on weight, which at this point can no longer be attributed to the twins. It was easy to think I was too busy, that I had no time. But we're all busy. Who has time? I realized I've been an idiot, and completely negligent. So my physical is tomorrow, and even though I could stand to get in shape, take better care of myself, I'm feeling better than I have in a long time.

Tomorrow

I have a long translation due on Thursday, and after being sick for a while and having a house guest, I started to freak out about finishing it. Today, thankfully, it started looking like meeting the deadline would at least be humanly possible--I wasn't so sure about that earlier. So I'm sneaking in five minutes to blog.

The translation includes autopsy reports, and my background research has been interesting. I found out that the three top hits and the most easily available autopsy reports are those of Nicole Brown Simpson, JonBenet Ramsay and Terri Schiavo. I also needed information on fingerprinting corpses and found many graphic images I wish I hadn't seen--and I say this as someone who doesn't bat an eyelash when interpreting for a medical examiner. I was, however, incredibly excited to have the original reports in Spanish, because it cleared up a lot of outstanding questions I had about the terminology I already knew in English.

Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be cold, and I heard flurries mentioned on the news. I will be happily holed up in my office translating, in my fleece pajamas and slippers, sipping a latte and eating brioche and Nutella. And even though I'll be working very, very hard, I'm looking forward to that.

Another Midnight Post

So I missed another day. I'm not making excuses, just stating the following facts: An old friend is in town, we've eaten delicious Ethiopian food for several meals in a row now, and drunk good wine. Plenty of it. We've hung out and she's also looked after the boys for me, because I've been working doggedly on a translation that's due on Thursday.

Also, we've been googling old articles from the Onion that we remember from way back. So I'll leave you with this one. Even though I'm opposed to the mere mention of Christmas before Thanksgiving, this one cracks me up every time. And considering it's the Onion, it's surprisingly G-rated, too.

Books, Books, Books

My dad was a big fan of celebrating special occasions. He especially loved celebrating them on dates that were not the actual dates of the occasions. I’ve mentioned before how we used to celebrate Thanksgiving whenever we felt like it, sometimes several times a year, and rarely in November. Christmas was often celebrated whenever my dad came back from a trip to the United States. It’s hard to describe just how incredible the ritual of the Opening of the Suitcases was when I was growing up. There were special gifts like walkmans and cassette tapes, magazines, Hershey bars and all kinds of assorted candy that was locked in a trunk and rationed throughout the year. My dad always milked it and made the most out of each reveal, so that my brother and I were always craning our necks practically drooling in anticipation while we waited for him to pull out whatever was hidden beneath the dirty laundry in his luggage. Christmas was always a fun time—tamales! rompope! huge manger scenes!—and an important holiday, but gifts were not big part of it. Nothing could have compared to the Opening of the Suitcases.

And my birthday, which was in May, was always celebrated in July.

There are a lot of bookstores in Costa Rica that sell books in English now, and there are even used bookstores which are full of books that tourists have left behind. But when I was growing up, there was only one. It was called simply The Bookshop, and it was so small and cozy. And they had a huge sale every year. In July.

My dad took me every year. It was my birthday gift, and I was allowed to buy stacks and stacks of books. After I was done picking out my favorites—books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, Madeleine L’Engle and James Herriot, the Great Brain books, Trixie Belden and every book in the Oz series—my dad would always steer me towards the saleslady and ask her what else she might recommend for a girl my age, and I would add some more to my pile. When I got home, I would spread them all out on my bed and look through them carefully, and deciding which one to read first took an eternity.

My parents passed their love of reading down to me. The yearly shopping spree at The Bookshop is the only time I remember money being no object. When I outgrew my own books, I moved on to my parents’ books. They had an aversion to fiction, so I read many, many memoirs, written by teachers, actors, doctors, books about the Cold War and about Holocaust survivors. We took to initialing the inside of the front cover of the books we’d read, so it was easy to keep track of who had read what. Even though we watched some TV every night, it was always turned off at some point so we could all have some peace and quiet while we all read in the living room together.

And now, I'm making every effort to pass that love of reading on to my boys. I didn’t start reading to them as early as they say you should, but I felt silly reading to them when they were newborns, just like I felt silly talking to them when I was pregnant. (Also, they got to hear my voice half an hour per hour while I was interpreting. I figured it didn't matter that what they were hearing were court proceedings in Spanish.) Once they could sit up, though, there were always board books strewn around the floor along with their toys. When I started reading them stories at night, I had a captive audience—their room was so tiny that there was only enough room to wedge a chair between both of their cribs. I would sit and read to them every night while they stood in their cribs and peered over the top.

When they were that small and had no say in the matter, I read to them almost exclusively in Spanish. That ended once they were big enough to grab a book and bonk me in the head with it insistently until I agreed to read it to them, so I began reading to them in English as well. What I’ve found, though, is that we keep coming back to the books in Spanish again and again, to the point that even P often reads to them in Spanish because those are their favorites and those are the stories they want to hear.

This has meant I’ve become quite passionate about children’s books in Spanish. I’m always on the lookout for them—new on Amazon, used at library sales, from friends and relatives who come to visit from Costa Rica. P often comments that our place looks like a bomb went off in Barnes & Noble. And while we started with Buenas Noches, Luna and the Eric Carle books in Spanish, the boys quickly moved past those (though I won’t say they outgrew them, because we recently went through another Eric Carle phase and they seemed to enjoy the books even more than they had before), and I’ve discovered many, many wonderful books since the days of La oruga muy hambrienta.

I’ve added an Amazon widget to my blog that reflects our current favorites, just for fun, and I’ll comment on what we’re reading occasionally as well, both for my own benefit as well as in hopes that it might lead someone else to discover something new.

Sick Days

So, I obviously took a couple of days off from blogging. Damn--I would have liked to make it through NaBloPoMo successfully! But other things took priority, like breathing, which I was having a hard time with for a few days. The good news is, I was able to cancel work, see my doctor, and get better. Also, it was decided I don't have pneumonia, which definitely qualifies as good news.

Back to work for me tomorrow, and more posts later.

A Perfunctory Post

It's November 3rd, which I'm pretty sure is too early in the month to post a token blog entry. But the boys are sick, I'm sick, and with the time change, we were all up early in the morning. All I can think of right now is the Theraflu that is sitting on the kitchen table, Theraflu I plan to take as soon as I can heat up the water. Tomorrow's job will be a very stressful one, so I'm going to conk out and hope things are better in the morning.

And also, I need to get out of here early tomorrow morning and VOTE!

Hello, November

A year ago, NaBloPoMo inspired me to start a blog. I thought it would motivate me to start out, since the concrete goal would be to post every day. I posted 18 times that month, which wasn't bad, for me. Since then, I've only posted a few times a month (or once a month, in some cases), but this year, I'm going to challenge myself to ramp up the number of blog posts. I'm going to unoficially do NaBoPoMo again. So, here goes.

One of the reasons I started to blog was because I felt so strongly about teaching the boys Spanish and I wanted to chronicle their language development. And then I held back, because it became clear that Secondo's language development was delayed, and I felt guilty posting language-related stories because most of them would have been about Primo.

One year and one autism diagnosis later, I'm over that. Things are what they are. Primo's language development continues to amaze me, and Secondo's language development has become a cause for celebration, not a source of worry like it was last year. That is a huge relief, and overall, I'm feeling optimistic and ready to tackle November.

I have to say, October kicked my ass. It's not all doom and gloom around here, though. Many of the events I'm writing about occured a few weeks ago, and I'm over them and am moving on, but I need to get them out. So there will be more posts about autism, because it's become a big part of our lives. But there will also be more posts about language, about the wonderful books we're reading. About my work and other things going on around here. Things that have seemed unimportant lately, things that have taken a backseat to autism.

But you know what, here's to the unimportant stuff.

More tomorrow.

Embarrassing Stories

A few years ago I was at a professional conference, surrounded by translators and interpreters. I love attending conferences—they’re expensive, but I need the continuing education credits to keep up my certification, and I always enjoy the experience. I come away feeling invigorated, at least for a while.

We sat down to lunch in the big ballroom and listened to the keynote speaker tell a story, a story about a gaffe he made when he was just learning Spanish. He’d done something or other and was feeling embarrassed about it, so he said, “Estoy embarazado.” Funny! Because (false cognate alert!) embarazado does not mean “embarrassed,” it means pregnant. Oops. The crowd tittered politely, but I was unimpressed.

The thing is, that happens to just about everyone who’s learning Spanish. When people who are learning the language tell me that story, I always laugh, because it is indeed funny and the fact that it happens to everyone doesn’t make it any less embarrassing if it happens to you. And it makes for a good icebreaker. But I was in a room full of interpreters, so my thought was, really? That’s the best you could do? Because interpreters can tell some really good stories about the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to them.

Here’s mine:

I used to interpret for a lot of anti-terrorism courses--definitely not the kind of work I ever imagined I’d do when I was interpreting in a nice, quiet booth in graduate school. It involved lots and lots of time on the shooting range. I loved the work, even though it was physically demanding. There was a mechanical precision to everything on the shooting range, and a rhythm I got into when interpreting the instructors’ commands, barking short, neat orders into my radio transmitter to all of the students on the firing line. No one did anything, anything at all, unless it had been ordered by the instructor.

We stood uprange one day, the line of students preparing their magazines and weapons for the march up to the firing line, an instructor and I behind them. The students had loaded two or three pistol magazines with ammunition, checked their gear and awaited the order, which finally came.

“LOAD YOUR WEAPONS!” bellowed the instructor.

“¡CAGUEN LAS ARMAS!” I shouted, just as forcefully.

And then I watched helplessly and turned beet-red as the rigid, perfectly straight line of men fell apart as all twenty-four men in fatigues doubled over in laughter.

The instructor, a former cop who was twice my size and who intimidated the hell out of me, turned to me and asked, “What did you say? What did you say??”

It was a slip of the tongue, I explained. I left out the r. Carguen las armas = load your weapons. Caguen las armas = shit on your weapons.

I underestimated the instructor. He wasn’t angry or even exasperated—he was mostly horrified and intrigued that leaving out one letter could make that much of a difference.

I had developed a rapport with the group during the course, which meant that they teased me mercilessly all day. I thought I’d never hear the end of it.

Qué embarazada.

Home Alone

P and the boys are visiting his parents for the weekend. For the first time in three years or so, I am home alone.

I had many, many plans for the weekend. I would watch Netflix movies. I would rent a machine and clean our furniture, which has seen our boys grow from newborns to toddlers and is much the worse for wear. I would spend time in the kitchen, make and even freeze my favorite muffins and granola bars so that I'd have plenty around for us to grab for breakfast in the mornings. I would organize the office, clean out the boxes that are stacked along one wall. Our nanny would work one day and help me scrub the place from top to bottom, and it would be clean for the first time ever. I would sleep in the mornings until I could sleep no more. I would blog to my heart's content. I would sneak in a matinee, at one of the multiplexes at an outlet mall, even, not just our local theater.

Instead, I got work that was too good to turn down. Damn you, work that is too good to turn down! The crappy offers, I can pass up in a heartbeat, but you, never. Even if it means giving up my weekend. So the place is still a mess, and the Sunday Post I bought this morning is on the couch, neatly folded and unread.

It's still good. I am still alone. It's still quiet. I have set aside some time to do a few things, I took a long bath last night, and I am enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of not having anyone else around.

Did I mention it's quiet? I'm liking that, quite a bit.

Look Ma, more bullets!

No blogging! No time! No motivation! Deadlines! So what else is new? But I miss blogging and wanted to finally get a post in, so here are a just a few things from the last two weeks.

• I think I worked an 80-hour work week last week, give or take a few hours, which officially ended this evening. I was working on a long, involved translation project and learned many lessons. One of which was that I can work until 5:00 a.m. if I have to. Two days in a row. I also learned that after you’ve done that two days in a row, 3:00 a.m. the next day doesn’t seem so bad, and 1:00 a.m. after that is a piece of cake. However, I don’t recommend it and I hope not to do it again anytime soon. You’re really not meant to do that after a certain age, I think, especially not if you have energetic twin toddlers, no matter how supportive and helpful your husband is.
  

• Storms! We had some pretty powerful storms in the area today and I was positively giddy as I ran back to work in the pouring rain after lunch today. My father used to tell me he always thought of me on rainy, dreary days because I love them so much. I suffer from the opposite of seasonal affective disorder, if there is one—sunny, warm days bring me down. Strange, I know.

• Two wonderful women from our county school system came to our house yesterday to evaluate Secondo. It brought up a lot of feelings and fears for me and gave me a lot of food for thought, which will be another post.

Tomorrow I am treating myself with an entire day of rest. Absolutely no work allowed, especially since I have plenty lined up for the rest of the month. The boys’ nanny will be here and I plan to do the following:

• Sleep as long as I want to, which may be all morning.
  

• Get my eyebrows waxed for the first time in three years.

• Blog and play on the computer.

• Go shopping, maybe hit DSW for fun and go ogle furniture at World Market (and yet not spend more than the cash I have in my wallet, which is what my weekly budget allows).

I swear, I feel like tomorrow is Christmas.

Random searches

When people post about the weird Google searches that have led people to their blogs, it always kind of cracks me up. And it’s also a little frightening. I mean, if I’m not careful about what I post, I could lead all kinds of unsavory characters to my blog.

How about my own Google searches and browser history, though? Since I’ve been slacking in the blogging department and a long update would be boring even to me, I thought maybe some of my own searches would neatly summarize what I’ve been up to recently. So, here goes:

pumpkin waffle recipe [These are amazing. I love, love, love my new waffle iron.]

Trout Fishing in America [I’ve been to two of their concerts, and I didn’t even take the kids to the first one. I love these people that much. And they’ll be back in town in June!]

www.paperbackswap.com [It’s how I get rid of all my old books and get new reading material. I love this site. There’s even a business dictionary on its way to me.]

kaboost booster [I think I’m getting two of these. They look like they’d work really well.]

Suni Paz [I’m always looking for more children’s music in Spanish for the boys. She’s charmingly retro.]

www.amtrak.com [Because a crazy week was made even crazier by a last-minute trip to New York for work.]

www.netflix.com [I added Freaks and Geeks and Arrested Development to my queue. I’ll upload them to my iPod Touch and my commute will be a lot more fun. You know what’s not doing so well since I got the Touch? My knowledge of current events. I need to start reading the Washington Post and The Economist a lot more.]

federal sentencing guidelines safety valve provision [I love working in Federal court.]

convert pdf to word [Because I have a huge translation coming up, but the source file is in pdf format. Since my love affair with Wordfast is still going strong, converting it to Word will make my life a lot easier. Adobe Acrobat is so expensive, but I’m considering investing in it and deducting it as a business expense.]

children’s national medical center [P got the ball rolling, and once we fill out a ton of paperwork, we should be able to get an appointment there.]

big balls [I swear, I had to research this for a translation I’m working on. It was not one of my most prudent Google searches. In fact, you shouldn’t really Google this unless you absolutely have to. And God, now anyone looking for big balls is going to find my blog.]

Reasons I Haven't Posted

1. Several translations and editing jobs. These involved project managers sending constant e-mails that read: Are you done yet? Are you done yet? How about now? They also involved calls and e-mails from me to my Colombian friends asking: What the hell does this word mean? and responses from them that read: Dude, I have no idea. It took some outside help and some serious Googling, but I got it done. Dictionaries are useful, but knowing people from many different countries is often even more useful. Needless to say, there was also plenty of caffeine, and swearing, in the equation.

2. I realized I had several other non-resolutions I wanted to make good on. One, I’ve been back to the gym. Not often, but whenever I can. Two, as a consequence of all the translating at home, I’ve come to the kind of sad realization that my interpreting work has been my main social outlet lately. There are many things about translating at home that I love, like the fact that I can hang out in my slippers with a cup of coffee by my side when it’s snowing outside, but I need to be around people. I was starting to feel seriously isolated. I’ve since had a few girls’ nights and feel much, much better. It had been months. Many months.

3. A two-week long court assignment, which involves a long commute. Fortunately, I caved, bought an iPod touch (love, love) and can watch video podcasts on the Metro. Awesome. I’m also really excited about the work, which is challenging and very interesting. I can’t complain, my work has been pretty varied as of late, so I’m definitely not bored.

4. A toddler who is still having major sleep issues. Not fun. ‘Nuff said.

Now I’m happily settled on the couch with a glass of wine, watching the primary results roll in. The biggest decision I have to make now is whether or not to wait for California--but I think the wine has decided that for me, and I’ll hear about California in the morning.