random thoughts about pregnancy and philandering artistic husbands

the countdown is getting scarily close to D-day. a week left before my due-date. there are still conflicting parts of my brain which fervently believe that a) there's not really a baby in there or b) that i will be pregnant forever (which would be OK, really, as long as i didn't get any bigger. every week i think, nah, i can't possibly get more enormous, and then poof! i get more enormous...)

projects remaining to be completed prior to arrival of parasite (apart from the metaphysical ones, like "acquire large amounts of patience and wisdom" and "reconcile self to complete mindfuck of having children") are to spray my fruit trees with horticultural oil in the vain hope that that will protect them from next summer's onslaught of evil buggies, finish painting mural in the bebe's room, and finish the bebe quilt. oh, and probably getting another little pedal bin for bebe's room would be a good idea too. "nesting" is such a euphemism; it sounds so cosy, when actually it means things like "buy a pedal bin into which you will be chucking your kid's smelly crap-stained nappy wipes." hmm.

the last two nights have been a cinematic lesson in the artistic value of having a philandering husband: last night we watched a biography of frida kahlo, and tonight i watched "sylvia," gwyneth paltrow/daniel craig film about sylvia plath and ted hughes. i have to say, if i was going to be made miserable (and by extension, more tortured and creative) by one of the two philandering husbands, i'd so go for ted hughes/daniel craig any day. diego rivera looked like an obese toad. he must have had one impressively charming personality, is all i can say, to be such a successful seducer of women. (whereas frida kahlo really was quite lovely, i think; she totally overexaggerated the unibrow in her self-portraits and in the photos at least had very delicate features). plus ted hughes had his whole sexy working class northern lad accent thing going as well. i don't know about the whole being-married-to-a-poet business, though; that sounds kind of exhausting. that said, i really, really don't buy the myth that an artist must be unhappy and/or alcoholic in order to be productive, and i wonder what the relative proportion of mental illness among professional artists to the general population is.

ok time to frapper le sac; i only had one two hour nap today so am completely wiped :)

ooh la la chez panisse

tonight was reminiscent of some of my french bloggy entries, so i thought to commemorate the historic occasion of my First Ever Dinner at Chez Panisse, i would add another one to the archives. so so so good.

i should also add that today was historic for the additional reason that it was my first day of maternity leave. so far i am a big fan of maternity leave. it's like being on regular holiday, except because you are pregnant you feel entirely justified in taking as many naps as you feel like. today i had three. being very pregnant is not, i think, unlike being a newborn; so much of your time is taken up with sleeping, eating, and going to the loo that you really can't be expected to do much more. anyway. i did achieve greatness in the form of clearing the shower drain (hoorah!) and nearly finishing the weatherproofing of the back deck (hoorah number two) and getting my car headlight fixed (hoorah number three) and that is enough greatness for anyone for one day, really.

having achieved daytime greatness, i then headed down to berkeley to meet kim d., gourmande extraordinaire, for dinner at chez panisse (with a brief and surreal stop off at the petaluma factory outlet mall along the way to return a couple of the pinker, more cartoon-infested baby outfits that we acquired along the way.) kim is a regular at chez panisse and gets total movie start treatment there, and i basked in the reflected glow of her celebrity; while going to chez panisse as a regular joe citizen i am sure is still pretty great, it was extra great getting to go with her. after every hunky italian/french waiter type person had come up to give her a hug and greet her by name, we got a tour of the kitchens; so so so cool - big walk in fridge with enormous cuts of meat hanging on hooks - usually you don't think of raw meat as smelling delicious, but it really did. pastry chef person doing arty things with tiramisu towers at one counter, another person arranging beautiful radiccio leaves on plates with drizzles of olive oily something yummo, big bins of freshly delivered mushrooms, greens, etc. fun. then we sat down and started to Eat.

first mini mini item were little cherry tomatoes fresh off someone's vine which you had to be very careful that your mouth really was all the way closed before you bit into them or juice would hit the people at the next table over. then first course proper was artichoke and radiccio thingy, accompanied by rioja rose wine that if i were more articulate & knowledgeable and if it were not 1 a.m. i might be able to come up with an actual description of, but as it is i can only say yum yum and it was quite unusual tasting. then the main dish - pork with winter veggies and broccolini mmmmmmmmmmmmmm and b/c kim is a rockstar they also brought us some roast ribs as well to go with. and some red wine what i don't remember what it was but it is written down on the menu so i can look it up tomorrow when i am properly awake.

pudding was tiramisu - intensely caffeinated - followed by little turkish delighty things and little chocolatey things and a mint tisane. oobh and apples and fresh DATES what i had never had before. super good.

oh oh oh it is way too late and i need to go sleep. love to all.