Oh, Roman, Roman...

I am a huge fan of Roman Polanski. "Rosemary's Baby" is probably my all-time favorite film. I also adore "Repulsion," "Chinatown" and "The Tenant." But I am not blind to the fact that Polanski committed a pretty egregious act against a minor. So unlike the cadre of Hollywood directors and actors who are calling for his release, I believe no one, not even one of my favorite directors, is above the law.

I was bemused that Woody Allen was among the first to lead the call for Polanski's release. Perhaps not the best advocate, an older guy who took up with his longtime girlfriend's young adoptive daughter. And least she wasn't a minor, though.

Also kind of surprising that some actresses are lobbying for the Swiss to release him, like Debra Winger. If Polanski had given her underage daughter champagne, drugs and then forced her to have anal sex, would that change her opinion about whether he should serve more jail time?

I had the Roman Polanski documentary ("Wanted and Desired") in my Netflix queue and curiously, it should be shipping this week. Talk about excellent timing.

I guess I found this season's court drama, if the case actually makes it that far!

Patience is not my virtue

So J and I have decided that since we are decent enough parents, we should have a second child. Why raise just one, and why deprive Magnus of a sibling that he can torture, manipulate and steal toys from? Why not go through another year of no sleep?

Conceiving Magnus was frighteningly easy. It was literally two attempts. Sadly, our efforts to replicate that record have been thwarted. Just when I think we've managed to achieve goal, Aunt Flo shows up. Which has caused me to completely freak out, start drinking flax seed oil and ban poor J from the jacuzzi.

Mother Nature is an odd thing. Once we declared we'd like to have a second child, my cycle became highly unpredictable. Now I don't have a good handle on when Aunt Flo comes each month. My doctor, who is probably now sick of seeing me and my insides every other month, doesn't want to take any drastic measures because he is not convinced there's a problem.

Trying to convince me of that, well, that's a whole other story.

Now, after attempting conception for four months, I am distracted all the time. In meetings, my mind starts to wander and I end up thinking about my uterus. In traffic, I think about the drug Clomid (in bad traffic, I spell it out.) After we put Mags to bed, J and I sit on the couch and I tell him about all the fertility statistics I looked up earlier that day.

Patience is not something I am known for. With every period that comes, my impatience only grows. I wish I could remember the great lesson life taught me when my first marriage fell apart and the world seemed like it was ending: everything is for a reason, everything has its own timing, and you are in charge of none of it.

Blaaarh!!

I Hate Your Kid

As mentioned in a previous post, we enrolled Mags in a play and learn class at Gymboree. I agonized and complained as I normally do but am happy to report that it was a wise decision and I am finding the class and parents somewhat bearable. It's the little shit head kids that get me.

One in particular makes my blood boil. He is bigger than most of the toddlers (or he's older and enrolled in the wrong level) and looks like a dumb ass. I never took any notice of him until he stormed over to Magnus two weeks ago and yanked a ball out of his hand. His mom said, "Now Joaquin, give it back." He threw the ball on the floor, grunted and then ran off. I didn't think anything of it. Then the week after, Magnus was sitting on a rocking horse when Fat Ass came over, stuck out his hand and pushed Magnus out of the way. "Hey!" I protested. The mother came over and said, "Joaquin, you are being such a pain! Why are you such a pain today?" She didn't make him apologize or try to correct his behavior. I wasn't sure in this situation if it's okay to throw down with another parent in a play class, so I let it go.

This past Sunday, Fat Fuck was standing on a bridge in the class jumping straight up and down and shrieking like Chewbaca. I think I was glowering at him because J tapped my arm and said, "Why are you giving him the evil eye?" I whispered, "I HATE that stupid kid" (very softly of course). He said, "Honey, that's not nice," and I whipped back around and said, "He took Magnus's ball, he shoved him, he's stupid, ugly, annoying and I HATE HIM!"

This isn't one of those situations where you evolve your thinking after having some time to reflect. I've had a day to think it over and I still can't stand little Joaquin. Magnus is going to have an interesting journey with me as his mama, is all I can say.

How smart is Magnus?

Writer's note: I am completely, shamelessly biased when it comes to my 19 month old. If you haven't already met him, you would soon realize he is the most amazing, gifted child on the planet....!

So last night we were reading a book and he pointed to the cover and said "Shu-shee." The actual name of said book is sushi. I was floored. All by himself he did that! I thought it would be fun to count how many words he actually knows, not including the ones that are kind of blended, like "ba-loo-loon" for balloon.

Forty three. That's right. Forty three fully formed words come out of that boy's mouth at any given time. I have no idea if that means he's advanced or developmentally average, but I know I was impressed. I gave him a kiss and said "forty three!" and he replied "foh shee."

See? Genius!!!

Stop being a martyr (from a former martyr)

A colleague of mine, who I respect enormously, has been complaining for a year about all the work she gets assigned. She has a work ethic to die for. The girl takes stuff home on the weekends and edits copy late at night. The fine line between obligation and personal life is blurry to say the least.

Today she was ranting about having too much to do. For a moment she looked like she was going to cry. I was suddenly transported back to the worst period of my life, my second job out of college. I was an AE at an entertainment PR and marketing company. I will withhold their name, but suffice it to say it should have been Serfdom and Associates. Absolutely everyone was overworked and abused. People got to the office at 7:30 AM and stayed til seven or eight o'clock at night. They rarely came out of their office except to go to the bathroom or run outside and chain smoke a pack of cigarettes. People never went out for lunch unless it was someone's birthday or a farewell lunch for someone who had finally had enough and resigned.

Rather than approach my supervisor about a more reasonable work load and hours, I suffered in silence. One day I actually rose at 5 in the morning, freaked out because I had too much to do, and showed up to work at 6:30 AM. Actually, I did that twice. I was misreable and tired but I sucked it up for a year and a half, thinking that by proving my work ethic, I would realize a promotion and the title of Kick Ass. Finally, after being assigned yet another account with no help, I had a full blown Martyr Breakdown, which pissed off my boss. She summarily let me go a week later.

My colleague's boss is a reasonable person and I am unsure why she won't push back or talk to him about amending her priorities. I realize she is probably not going to say anything and will suck it up until she reaches her breaking point, which is too bad. There is no great reward for being overloaded and underappreciated, even at a company that doesn't operate like a sweat shop. Take it from a former martyr!

I am a freaking good cook

If you were at our house last night, you would have sampled some awesome bison chili. Slow cooked, crimson red and with that slow-building spice effect. It smelled so good your eyes crossed the moment you walked in the front door. I love cooking and there is simply never enough time to prepare all the meals I'd like and to learn new things.

Although I am crammed for time, I was able to prioritize for this week and here's what will be on the stove:

Lemon butter shrimp with whole wheat pasta and parmesan (tonight)
Chicken breasts with sundried tomatoes and shallots (tomorrow)
Beef tenderloin with grape tomatoes and thyme (thursday)
Salmon with mustard glaze and roast veggies (Friday)

P.S. I've cut out drinking wine this week so hopefully water pairs well with these dishes....

The Las Vegas Bug

I've visited Las Vegas several times but I've never had a deep affinity for the city. I remember being ten or eleven and on a trip with my parents. Sitting on the sidewalk outside Cesars Palace was a man, a woman and three kids. They all looked like they could use a shower and a nap. The father was eating shrimp cocktail out of a Dixie cup and passing it to his wife for a bite. The three kids were sitting on backpacks and looked misreable. They weren't into the shrimp (which is just as well, there was hardly enough for one person).

The next day, I saw a man yank at the arm of his girlfriend, who was trying to enter a casino. She shrugged him off and he implored, "I don't have any fucking money!" She said, whatever, and then marched in without him.

So my earliest impressions of this city were of sad families, fractured relationships and broke people. Things seem to have changed, though. I caught an episode of the new season of Top Chef and it takes place in Vegas. The contestants were cooking at Joel Bouchon's restaurant and I was amazed at how cool Vegas seems now. Major restaurants, hip nightspots and not such a desperate feel to it. Of course, now that I want to go it would be difficult with a toddler in tow. So my fantasy is to have my parents watch Mags, fly in with J, have dinner and drinks, play a card game or two, and then fly back the same night.

I caught the Vegas bug from a TV show. Oh, the humanity.

My Meat Contradiction

I have been thinking about the fact that while I eat meat, I have this very odd aversion to eating what I call baby meat (veal, lamb, young pigs). I came across a recipe for suckling pig and I just shuddered at the thought of a one or two month old pig being yanked from its mother and butchered. Which is total hypocrisy because I have no problem consuming a pig that's older. Maybe it's because the suckling pig looks too much like Wilbur from "Charlotte's Web?"

I haven't eaten veal in 15 years and I rarely if ever eat lamb. What accounts for this odd boycott and obvious double standard? I'll eat you, Mr. Animal, but before I do, enjoy your time on Earth....your days are numbered.

Hmmm.

Goddamn me

Faithful readers of this blog will know I have a deep affinity for engaging in conversations with strangers. ; )

So my latest odyssey: I had to run to Bristol Farms yesterday to pick up two ingredients. It was not a real shopping excursion. My strategy was to run in and run out in less than six minutes. And I was well on my way to accomplishing this goal when I was met by two college kids carrying clipboards while I was trying to exit the store. They murmured something about a petition and I mumbled back that I wasn't interested.

However, it didn't hit me until I reached my car that they were asking me to sign a petition to overturn Prop 8. My keys were almost in the ignition. Oh no!! What to do? Turn around and race back to the entrance, with some lame excuse that I couldn't hear them? (which is actually true, although I was so eager to bypass them I wasn't fully listening, either). Or drive away and not put my signature to something that I personally believe in?

I sat in the car completely flummoxed. Would they think I was some awful homophobe now? I glanced in the rearview mirror and several people were gathered around them smiling, nodding and so happy to be signing the petition. With great shame I put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot. I was super bummed and pissed at myself. I have definitely pointed the finger at friends for not doing the right thing or standing up for something they believe in, and low and behold, I turn around and do the same damn thing.

To repent, I am buying candy today from the kid who solicits in our office building. He will probably have a heart attack, as I always quicken my pace to dart by him too.

Perfection Is

Jason + Magnus + the beach

Running

Pink sunset skies

Me chasing after them

Laughter, all three