This year we even roasted the seeds!

Like last year, this past week Eric pressured me into using Spookmaster "trace & carve" designs to carve pumpkins this year. I went along with it and have to admit, once again the results are pretty impressive.

Here's our pumpkins! Eric did the skull, I did the witch*. Happy Halloween!





*Buaaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

I demand my share of the life-saving potion!

The H1N1 vaccine arrived in the Bay Area today and Eric, myself, and thousands of other pregnant women, their partners, parents of small children, others who fall into the high priority category, and people so desperate to get theirs they were pretending to fall into the high priority category lined up to get jabbed.

When we arrived, the line was out the door, through the parking lot, down the bock, around the corner and then down* the next block. Here we are at the end of the line. We got there at 6pm, an hour before the clinic was scheduled to close, and there were easily 200 people in line ahead of us. It seemed sensible to walk to the front and see what chance we had of actually getting the vaccination before deciding to stand in line for an hour, maybe more.

The nurse who was managing the line was actually just about to count back in the line and hand out cards to the people that she estimated would be able to receive the vaccine that day. They had plenty of vaccine, the challenge was not having enough people to administer it quickly enough to meet the demand. (Self-administration was not an option.)

I walked with her back up the line as she counted and as she would point to someone and say a number, at least one out of every three people would blurt out "I'm pregnant!" with a desperate, scared look in their eyes, or "I've been here since 3:30 with my kids you can't turn us away!" or "Gimme gimme gimme!" - this just at hearing a number and having no idea what it even means.

Her count got to the end of the line with numbers to spare, suggesting that all of us were "in" for that day. Common sense suggested otherwise: it was about 6:25pm at this point, and the line had barely moved since we had arrived. We figured it was worth the wait.**

At about 6:45pm, with the line still essentially unmoved, another nurse came down the line asking that just the pregnant women come forward -that we were the only ones who would still receive the vaccine that day. I eagerly skipped to the front of the line, trying not to look the people who had been there for three hours or more or their children in the eyes. I feared them.

When the head of the clinic came out and officially told people they had to come back the next day, I feared that this was going to turn into a very gory pre-Halloween special event. After assuring everyone that they would get priority the next day and that there was plenty of vaccine to go around, the doctor apologized sincerely and then headed quickly inside and called the police.

The line did not disperse. People continued to stand there.

Meanwhile, inside the clinic in line for my shot, I sweet-talked the nurse into letting Eric come wait with me inside, and then, since he was there, why not just give him the vaccine too? They did.

We left feeling like we had stolen something.

It was 7:15pm when we left and the line was still there. The police were encouraging people to go home, the clinic was closed. I don't know what happened next.

*This block was a hill, so it was actually up the block, not down it

**"We've waited more than two hours to ride roller coasters. I suppose another half hour can't hurt," Eric reasoned.

Then we got married

This is the balloon in which we were married. (Pretty in its own right, and infinitely better than the balloon that launched along with us which looked like the Puerto Rican flag.)
This is the view from several hundred feet up, just after dawn.

This is us listening to Scott the Balloon Captain (and self-proclaimed "balloonatic") as he read us the ceremony.

When we landed, we were married. Eric helped me out of the basket while the balloon crew packed the balloon back up.

It was a wonderful, dreamy, perfect day.

Me-to-be

As I pick the last of the nail polish off my fingernails today, I am relishing memories of my bachelorette party from a week and a half ago.

There's something that feels kind of fun and subversive about being pregnant at your own bachelorette party. Nobody suspects that the bride-to-be is also a mother-to-be.

At the spa where we got massages, the therapist who knew she was doing a pre-natal massage literally went through everyone else in our group before looking questioningly at me - with my hideous mock-veil headband and plastic "I'm the Bride" pink sash - to confirm that it was me.

At the nail salon, the owner stopped by to say hello and after I gave a somewhat saucy reply to one of his questions his playful response was something along the lines of "And you haven't had several glasses of champagne today!" I just smiled. The sparkling cider can really go to my head.

I had a fabulous time and owe a huge thanks to Jamaica and Nonoko for their exceptional planning and incredible generosity. You guys rock!

On handwashing

Recently, in spite of my better judgment, I have started washing my hands regularly.

You're probably wondering if there's a typo in that sentence. There isn't. I actually make a point of not washing my hands too often. I have a theory, which I expect will soon be supported by scientific studies if it isn't yet, that frequent exposure to very small amounts of pathogens actually keeps me healthier rather than putting my health at risk. Judging by the woman next to me on my flight home from Vegas the other day who applied Purell to her hands literally every 3-4 minutes without leaving her seat or actually touching anything, I may be the world's only germophile, standing against legions of germophobes*.

But, there are other considerations now that I am pregnant. Getting sick has more significant consequences now than it would if it were just me moping around the house blowing my nose and whining. Even more seriously, H1N1, everyone's favorite swine flu, a) has a frighteningly high fatality rate for pregnant woman and b) is all over the Bay Area (oh no that's where I live!).

So, grudgingly, I am now very conscientiously washing my hands A LOT. And I am more aware of germs than ever. For example, last week I volunteered at Stewart Brand's Long Now talk where they fed we volunteers pizza before making us work. I had washed my hands and was happily munching my pizza when a late-arriving volunteer came over to introduce himself and offered to shake my hand while I was eating with my hands. Normal Ellie would have set down the pizza, given him a good nice-to-meet-you shake and thoughtlessly gone back to licking pizza sauce off my fingers.

Germ-aware Ellie looked him in the face and said "I can't touch your hand right now, I'm eating. You know, germs."

What have I become?

I guess a lot of things change when you have someone else's well-being to worry about, and already I am making different decisions about how much to sleep, what (and how much) to eat and how to deal with work and stress. I guess the good news is that kids are actually extremely germy, so my germ-limited life is probably going to be short-lived whether I like it or not.

Bring on the (non-fatal, non-permanently damaging) germs!


*I think my typo "germophone" in the first draft of the post is funny.

On Angels' Landing

Since last Wednesday, I've been in Zion National Park (without internet access, hence my absence. This is the second week in a row that I've been out of town for several days but I won't be disappearing again for a while, I promise).

This was the Moss family annual National Park trip and I joined my aunts Barbara and Jane and their brothers, my uncles, Bill and Fred, at Zion for a long and very enjoyable weekend in southern Utah.

The focus of the trips has always included wonderful and challenging hikes, and in the past has included the Grand Canyon (to the river and back all in one shot, against the stern warnings of signs everywhere), Half Dome at Yosemite, Brown Mountain at Glacier National Park, and many others. This year, the Angels' Landing hike was the marquis hike and a notable highlight.

It is worth noting that I am the only person in this group of five who does not have a crippling fear of heights. This is important with regards to the Angels' Landing trail because it is noted for its steep drop-offs and for a half-mile section of trail which follows a 'knife's-edge ridge' to the final destination. To aid hikers in not falling off, the National Park Service has thoughtfully installed a set of chains that you can hang on to as you scramble your way to the end.

It is a spectacular hike.

Here is where the 'knife's-edge ridge' section begins. Note the evocative warning sign:

This picture, showing the first section with chains, is taken from a spot affectionately known as "Chickenshit Ledge," which is also where I reluctantly left Fred and Jane (in the company of many others who were not up to the thrilling endeavor with the chains). We three did a worthy job together scaling over 21 switchbacks and nearly 1500 feet, and it seemed cruel that vertigo as opposed to lack of fitness or ability would prevent them from getting to see the full panoramic views at the end. They were bummed for sure but were also happy to sit there, eat peanut m&m's and tell passersby that they had sent the pregnant woman on without them.

This is a view of the ridge that leads to the end of the trail: look closely and you can see people walking all the way out to the end of the line (the left side of this big standalone ridge rock).

Wow!

Needless to say, I made it all the way and very much enjoyed doing it. For better or worse, I am totally unphased by heights and have no trouble at all walking with no handrail across a 36 inch wide span of rock with 1200 foot drops on either side. I'm not sure this is necessarily a trait that promotes survival, but for Angels' Landing it did the trick.

What remains to be seen is if I am as strong and fearless next year carrying a six-month old baby.

Up up and away!

On October 25, which is not far from now, Eric and I are getting married in a hot air balloon. It might look something like this:

This will be the official wedding ceremony and the captain of the balloon will officiate for us somewhere over Sonoma County. We are honoring all superstitions we can think of in the hope of getting great weather that day, as it is quite a weather dependent sort of event.

(It is worth noting that the weather in San Francisco today was a lot like the scene at the end of Karate Kid II. I was convinced that the tree in front of our place was going down more than once, but most of it is still there.)

In case you were wondering, there are maternity wedding dresses to be had out there, ranging in price from $39.99 to much much more. I bought a 'regular' wedding dress and am probably the first bride in history to ask the saleswoman, "Do you think I can gain five pounds and still fit into this dress?" Currently, I am on track to look neither normal nor pregnant, merely Ellie Extra Chunky for this wedding. Eh, I'll take it!

The balloon only holds eight people plus the captain, so this is going to be a pretty intimate event with just our parents and my brother joining the festivities on board. Anyone who knows me knows that I am not capable of celebrating any milestone, be it birthday, President's Day or any given Friday, on just one day, or even within one week. This is certainly no different. We are going to hold a big bash wedding party next August to celebrate with all of the friends and family (and our new baby) who won't be with us in the balloon.*

*OK, I guess technically the baby will be with us in the balloon.