Oh my, it has been a while. As the days get warmer, longer, and brighter, I find myself much less inclined to write here. Quite the paradox, as I have so much more going on in my life, and therefore much more to say. Probably it is the surfeit of feelings and information which makes me avoid writing. I'll be doing something and think that it would make a good theme for a blog entry, but when you have a weekend and week like I've had, it's best to just let it all out in one bout.
First off, I went to Unitarian Universalist church. I bit the bullet, put Ender in the infant care with what seemed to be two lovely women (one a volunteer and the other the 'constant care provider') while holding back tears as I watched Ender play, staring at three other children who were about five or six months older than him like they were creatures from another planet. I probably was a little distracted from the service because of this first experience with daycare. The service itself was ok, everyone in the congregation was super friendly and seemed very involved, which is more than I can say about some Protestant churches I've been to. It was the day before International Women's Day, and therefore the service was planned and run by women from the congregation. I especially enjoyed one part where about six women of ages ranging from seventy-five to twenty-five gave a two sentence long statement about when they 'became feminists'. Some were funny, others sad. There was also a drum circle to begin and finish the service. Overall, it was quite enjoyable. We stuck around to look at the pamphlet table for coffee hour, spoke to a woman at the welcome table, and then left. No one really approached us to talk, and I think probably the best way to meet people is probably in smaller groups that are organized by the church. I'm not sure yet whether I'll go back. My only dislike: hymnals. Ugh. I think that all the singing in church might very well be detracting from its appeal to the younger generations because singing in church makes me feel terribly uncomfortable. I just don't like it, I don't think anyone else likes it (with a few exceptions, of course) and I don't see the point in it. Singing does not make me feel spiritual. It makes me feel tone deaf.
Mike seemed to enjoy his UU experience. I think that the idea of a church without God is still sinking in for him. What that means exactly is different for each person. I mean, for some Unitarians there is definitely a God (capital G), whereas for others (such as myself) it is entirely about community, a celebration of our collective humanity and an attempt to find closeness in a sterile world. I think I will go back, now that I write this. I want to see the minister do an actual sermon, though.
After church, we went to go see Mike's parents. They were planning a cruise they are going on with some friends of theirs through the Greek Isles and then through to Venice. It sounds amazing. Personally, my ideal cruise would be from New York to Iceland to Denmark. I think the icebergs would be amazing, and what an ideal way to travel with a baby! No airplanes! Heaven.
So then the next day, Monday, the weather was still gorgeous, so we went out for a walk. Near our house they are doing major construction to remove a bridge. This involves the vibratory setting of concrete, which Mike explained to me, but I wasn't really listening (sorry sweetie!) and it is apparently a very messy process. I'm still not clear on why they were setting concrete when they are removing a bridge, but that's besides the point. When they do this, they set up a tarp so that concrete bric-a-brac doesn't fall on unsuspecting pedestrians below. However, this unsuspecting pedestrian was not so lucky. I felt something wet on my head and I looked at the closest construction worker.
"There's shit raining from the sky."
"Yeah," he nodded, "They're setting concrete." As though this were the most normal thing in the world. So normally, in fact, that Mike, Ender and I continued walking down the street.
I looked at Mike. He looked at me. We realised that both of us were covered in concrete liquid. It was very disgusting, humiliating, and I was very upset. We went back to the construction worker, who hadn't noticed how badly we had been hit when he first talked to us, but was nice enough to call the foreman. The foreman was clearly afraid of being sued. It was very dangerous, and they're damn lucky it didn't hit my kid. However, I wasn't hurt, Ender wasn't hurt, and I was happy enough to have them pay for me to get a new sweater. I am not a litigous person, despite what others may expect. An ability to independently sort out conflict is part of what makes this country great.
It was a very nice sweater, a Bench sweater, for you fashionistas, and not cheap. I went to Bench to get a new one, but my sweater was out of season and all of the teeny-tiny cartigans were a little too tight, a little too young, and way too branded. I hate having a logo across my ass, it isn't classy and it's not going to be remembered fondly in ten years, I guarantee you. I picked a sweater I didn't like, paid for it and kept the reciept for the construction guys. I am returning it tomorrow to buy something I actually like.
Did you know, my closet is ten billion shades of grey, from dove white to pigeon grey to crows black? There is no colour, and there is a lot of herringbone and stripes. I'm not sure when this happened, but it was definitely post childbirth. I think I'm subconciously trying to mask my hips and belly. Dieting has commenced as of today, and I think I did fairly well. Go me.
Well that's a dent in my story, dear reader. More soon.