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Week thirty-seven

21 Oct

All righty, then. We are officially full term this week. Wahoo! That means that this kiddo can pop out any time he pleases and he’ll be equipped to make it in this harsh world of ours. Of course, I fully expect him to stay in there a few more weeks and get nice and ripe, but hopefully he won’t overstay his welcome. Let’s be punctual or maybe just fashionably late, baby. But don’t keep us waiting too long, because we want to meet your sweet face and smell your sweet skin and whisper your name in your ear like we’re giving you a secret.

I had my GBS test on Wednesday and I’m patiently awaiting my status on that end. Probiotics, don’t fail me now. The rest of the midwife appointment went well. I gained more weight than I wanted to (shock horror) but my blood pressure was good and the baby’s heart rate and position were good.

I’ve had some minor swelling in my ankles and feet the past couple of days when I got home from work. I suspect I need to drink more water, which is a fun thought when I already feel like I should be paying rent on the restroom at work.

37 weeks No Braxton Hicks yet, that I can tell anyway. I have had some odd, intermittent throbbing in my lower back, but nothing remarkable. I have felt a big ball of tension here and there in my stomach, but I think that’s just baby boy shoving his butt up into me. It’s the weirdest thing to see and to feel.

Sunday Amanda, Amber, and Courtney threw us a shindig at the house with some delicious food and even better company. Naturally, I got completely distracted and didn’t take many pictures at all. It was so great to see everyone who came. I have felt sort of cut off from the world thanks to my crappy hours and the general exhaustion that comes part and parcel with pregnancy (I don’t do a lot of partying these days), so having friends I hadn’t seen in months — some of whom traveled a good haul — come to my house to celebrate the major life change that’s about to click into place, well, it means a lot to me. We got some lovely and super useful things for the baby, and once again I am just blown away by how generous the people I love are. We are truly fortunate. I hope this baby will be able to pick up on that and appreciate it from day one.

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So we’re kind of in countdown phase now. Twenty-odd days until the due date and my last day of work. Some nights I’m not sure which I’m looking forward to the most. Some moments I’m more than ready to get this show on the road. Other times I cannot believe this is happening and am convinced that there is no possible way we’ll be ready in time. But we’ll be ready. We’re ready.

C-Y Fest booth: A recap

20 Sep

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My first mistake was assuming that I would make it to bed by midnight Friday.

Instead, I was up until 3, printing out last-minute signs and trying to make sure I had everything in order. My alarm coaxed me awake at 6 and I went about loading the car and putting some food and drinks in the cooler, only to realize that most of the ice trays were empty and therefore completely worthless to me. Bah. I filled a big travel mug with strong coffee and woke Ray up right before time to go, and we scooted over to Cooper-Young.

We found our stall and pulled the car into the nearest parking lot to unload as we waited for Shane — the bringer of the tables and chairs and the essential extra person to help successfully put up the tent. He ran into some traffic snags so we roped my pal Ed, who had just stopped by to chat, into helping us attempt to get the tent set up, since I was starting to panic a little about getting everything ready and the car moved before the streets were blocked off and Ray was effectively stuck there all day (he needed to be able to go home and sleep before his work shift that night) and the festival gates opened.

We got the tent mostly open and figured out, and then Shane arrived and applied his tent TLC to get it fully functional. We made pretty quick work of attaching the lattice and hanging the photos up on their janky little paperclips. I kept running into a brain block where I couldn’t quite figure out exactly how I wanted things to look, even though I had practiced the day before. Anyway, we were tidying up as the festival-goers started trickling in, but by and large, we got it done in time. I am so glad I have helpful friends, and that Shane has a good eye so that he could figure out the best place to put some things I was totally stymied by.

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By 9:30 I was already sweaty and exhausted, but things were just getting started.

I made some sales early on, which was encouraging. I immediately met a sweet couple of ladies who really liked my Tennessee prints and were hoping to customize them as cards. The magnets of the same size were a big hit, too, and I sold out of one design and nearly out of the other. Another big seller was the Memphis letter collage print, which eventually sold out.

Several friends stopped by and chatted with me, which was a lovely cure for my hermit disease. Some friends even bought stuff, which was also awesome.

One of the coolest things that happened was getting to meet people who read the blog/follow the shop whom I’ve never met before. They were all so sweet and patient with me. Hi, everyone I met who might be reading this now!

Erica checked on me several times and, being a craft show veteran, even offered some suggestions about how to tweak the booth. I heeded her advice on moving the banner so that people could see in to the booth, but I didn’t have the energy to change the placement of the tables. Next time, maybe. Ray and Shane dropped back by to check on me, as did Amanda and Brandon, so I could walk around and take a pee break or two. I ate a giant burger from Celtic Crossing — that they delivered to my booth! — and swilled water to stave off dehydration.

It wasn’t so bad sitting there alone. I got to do some pretty fine people watching (some highlights: seeing a woman on a Rascal scooter accidentally careen into a neighboring booth and knock over a piece of art, and then later seeing a woman and a man have words — “ex-ca-uuuuuuse YOU!” when they both accidentally bumped into each other, and then even later watching some kid get caught trying to steal some dude’s sombrero) and it gave me a chance to sit back and tend to things in the booth that I might have ignored had I been otherwise distracted.

One of the bars across the front of the tent started to fall, and every third person who came inside hit his/her head on it on the way back out. I started warning everyone repeatedly to watch their heads, as many of them had had some beer and were not exactly observant. Ha. But I was scared that if I tried to push the bar back up, that my entire tent would collapse. So I left it.

It was really cool having people come by and have nice things to say about my art. I feel weird calling it that but that’s what it is. One man even told me I had the best collection out of all the photographers there. Sadly he didn’t buy anything but hey, a compliment is great too.

I can say I’d definitely do another craft fair, now that I sort of know how they work and what to expect, and the kinds of things craft show buyers seem to gravitate toward. It was an excellent marketing opportunity and I gave my cards out to everyone who would take one or two so they will hopefully check out my shop. Of course, this time next year I will have my hands full with a 10-month-old (!!!) but I would love to try my hand at it again. Maybe get a bigger tent and some sturdier structures from which to hang things. Maybe pare down my offerings a bit now that I know what didn’t garner much interest at all and what seemed to be popular. Definitely make extra copies of things that I can tell will be popular so that I don’t run out, although it’s really hard to predict what will take off and what won’t.

By the time we got home, I was completely exhausted and could hardly move. My hips and back were almost totally locked up and my head had started to hurt pretty bad. I was in bed by 10 p.m. and slept nearly 12 hours. I woke up sore and still tired. But it was a good tired. An accomplished tired. It was quite a leap to take to get my name out there and let people peruse through my artwork, opening myself up to judgment like that. I would so love it one day if this is how I could make a real living. Making and sharing and selling.

Baby shower No. 1

13 Sep

My friend Ashley took the reins months and months ago before the bump had ballooned and told me she wanted to throw me a baby shower — something she’s always wanted to do — so I happily took her up on her offer. Over the course of the intervening months, she has worked so hard on the event. And did a fabulous job. I really can’t thank her enough for making my first baby shower so special. Too bad I can’t talk her into having another little one so I can return the favor.

Sunday my mom, sister, both aunts, grandmother, and very brave nephew Patrick came into town and we met up at Ashley’s house with several ladies from work. I had an acute attack of preggo brain and forgot to put the battery in my camera, so I’m grateful Courtney was there and snapped pictures and was kind enough to let me use them.

the spread Orange and chocolate cake: Delicious!

We ate excellent food and played a couple of games — the girth guess and a pregnancy word scramble that, shamefully, I did not win (I missed the word “midwife” for crying out loud!) — and then it was on to the portion of the shower where you open all the lovely gifts people have given you in front of the whole crowd. That is a trip. Christmas babies don’t get a lot of occasions to open gifts solo; most of the time if I’m opening a gift, everyone else in the room is too. So I mowed through wrapping paper and ribbons and card envelopes, making rubbery emotional and silly faces (which I know thanks to Courtney’s pictures) and showing the goods to the crowd.

We cracked wise and ooohed and aaahed over Ashley’s immaculate diaper cake. I mean, that thing was stacked with awesomeness. My grandmother regaled us with a story about her new dog who only eats weiners. My sister threatened to feed my month-old child Vienna (pronounced “vah-ay-nee”) sausages through a mesh pacifier. You know, the usual Turner antics.

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I am just blown away by everyone’s sweet generosity. This child will want for nothing, except maybe parents who aren’t batshit crazy (but everyone wants for that). I want to make a photo catalog of all the wonderful things we’ve been gifted; I’ll get on that soon. I’ve started my thank-you cards and hope to get them all out before the end of the week. But a little card just cannot express how grateful I am for friends and family and co-workers who have been so amazing, helping us stockpile stuff for DJ Baby Bok Choy’s arrival. It’s on me to pay it forward, and I will take that responsibility very seriously.

More pics over on Courtney’s Flickr. I will hopefully be able to gank some additional pics from my family too!

Bits and baubles

3 Sep

When I was a kid I thought Labor Day was the day all the babies were born. Except me. Because, you know, I was born on Jesus’ birthday instead.

Let’s all join hands and send these positive directives into the universe: Do not use the word “hate” when you mean “hatred.” Do not use the word “impact” when you mean “affect.” Do not say “regime” when you mean “regimen.”

I just wrote a long diatribe against the new Facebook picture viewer’s lack of a clickable X because I effing hate having to just click off to the side in negative space to get something to go away. Aaaaaand then I realized there is an X and I just didn’t see it because it’s way up in the right-hand corner. Internetting is so hard sometimes.

The Kids are in Portland this weekend to see Alana and Cox get hitched. I was originally going to be there but then I procreated and now my body exists in a permanent no-fly zone. Okay, not permanent, but for now I’m grounded. I’m sad to miss the festivities and the reunion. Sounds like I’ve already missed Patrick giving Cox a piggyback ride and falling and breaking his shoulder. I miss all the good stuff. Mazel tov, you crazy kids.

Does everyone do their best Words for Friends-ing and Instagram-ing on the toilet, or is that just me?

Speaking of toilets, we ran out of toilet paper but guess who had two complimentary thanks-for-setting-up-a-baby-registry packs of baby wipes in her pile of baby stuff?

I realize that sentence is not a question but it feels so weird ending it with a period.

Ray introduced me to this song last night and I cannot stop laughing at Elvis’ boats.

I can do this thing when I lie on my side where I can squeeze my knees together and make something in my hip region pop. It feels amazing.

Happiness is a Dunkin Donuts blueberry dougnnut.

Did you know that the creator of Caslon was a type designer and a gunsmith? Doesn’t that make Caslon all that much more beautiful, to know that its creator got his start engraving gun locks and barrels?

I broke my chair at work and totally tried to play it off like I meant to. Because people intentionally break chairs.

My body is looking so busted these days. The stretchmarks have woven their way across my belly, spreading from their initial parentheses shape and taking on the characteristics of a wall-crawling vine. The other day, I ran into this harsh metal piece that juts out of the side of the desk and gave myself one hell of a gnarly-looking bruise on my upper thigh. I feel like I am being smothered by cellulite. I’ve got bug bites and cuts that have carved dark scars into my skin that won’t go away. I can’t see below my waist. Scratch that — I don’t have a waist. I love that my body knows how to make another person but I am ready to get my old body back, the one where I could lounge on my tummy sometimes. Of course, I know it will never be quite the same. That’s OK. It wouldn’t have been anyway, baby or no. Because that’s just how bodies work. They start out so smooth, though …

Someone in the elevator at work asked me the other day when I’m due. No strangers had said anything about my belly up until that point. I haven’t been offered help pumping gas or carrying groceries or hauling things to my car. No one has given me an unsolicited belly rub yet, either, a fact I contribute to my chronic bitchface more than anything else.

I gushed about the Neutral Milk Hotel box set news when I heard about it but I am going to gush again. GUSH.

Sweet little lilies

29 Jul

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This sweet candy lily and its sibling nearby don’t seem to be as put out by the relentless heat as much of the other stuff gasping blooms out there right now. This is another installment of the continuing Transplanted From @saraclark’s Garden Series.

Why I am not in charge of naming flowers

22 Jul

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While hiking up Lookout Mountain last year, Nick Fowler and I for some reason started talking about black-eyed Susans and how they got their name. We pretty much settled on the only possibility that made sense to us at the time: That the black-eyed Susan was a flower insensitively and macabrely named for a domestic violence altercation of yore. That is not true, the internet tells me, and I am quite relieved.

Anyway, I have some sweet black-eyed Susans in the yard this year — another bright spot transplanted from Middle Tennessee to Memphis by @saraclark.

Fortune

21 Jun

I have good friends. Good, solid, generous friends. I’ve got a bedroom filling up with knick-knacks, furniture, clothes, toys, and more, given to me by people who know I will need it and who want to help. I’ve got a crib and changing table on the way thanks to a friend who thought enough of us to enter us in a contest and kick our nomination up a notch with a super creative entry. I’ve got so many people who will offer me comfort and advice and chocolate at the mere tremble of my lip. I often don’t feel like I deserve such kindness and I know I need to pay it forward at a high exchange rate.

No matter how much I say thanks, friends, know that it’s not nearly as much as I mean.

Tiny fireworks

20 Jun

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Everyone say hello to the coneflowers that made it all the way from Nashville to Memphis via @saraclark. They are bustin’ out!

My doula Nick solves problems

2 Jun

Me: my mom is wanting me to have a baby shower in my hometown, and she wants to invite some childhood friends i haven’t seen in 10+ years

Nick: nice
that’ll be fun for you

here’s a plan
invite them
all of them
shove a water balloon up between your legs
bust it right when you walk in
be all like. oh no my water broke

leave
your good

Me: yes, i’m sure that will be the end of that

Nick: fill it with cherry koolaid to really freak everyone out

me: i’m revoking your license

Nick: i’m like dr. fucking phil
or vanilla ice
you got a problem
i’ll solve it
check out the hook
while my dj revolves it

Day 106/365: Strawberry Pickin’

18 Apr

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Courtney was nice enough to invite me to go strawberry picking at Jones Orchard with her and Dustin, Daphne, and her sister Chelsea. The weather was amazing and I didn’t even break a sweat. That’s how I gauge good weather. Sunny? Check. Breezy? Check. Sweaty? Nope. EFFING FABULOUS. We let the munchkin go nuts, picking her own crop and sampling some of the pickins first — to make sure they met her quality standards, of course. This is what a qualified strawberry quality tester looks like after a hard day at the office:

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I got a pretty good haul myself — a box of big, fat, red berries for $4 or so. And I picked up a little apple cake wrapped in plastic, which I disposed of easily AND WITHOUT SHAME later that night. I made quick stop at McCarter Coffee down the street to pick up some beans for the boyfriend (and for me, in my moments of weakness) and came out smelling like I’d bathed in the stuff. Mmmmm.

Millington is such a charmer when it wants to be.

[Project 365