Yesterday, I sent out an email to some of my closest girlie friends & family, asking them to walk with me this summer to raise money for breast cancer research.
3 days. 60 miles.
I wasn’t sure I could do it, or that I’d have the drive to train – or raise $2,000, for that matter. I knew, though, if one of my friends stepped up and said she’d do it with me, there was no backing down.
Right now – looks like Su & I will be doing the Breast Cancer 3-Day, to benefit the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation to fund breast cancer research, education, screening and treatment programs.
Amen for the treadmill out on the porch – I have a feeling it will soon become my best friend. Training starts Monday – I’ve got until July 30th to get ready. 60 miles in three days. 20 miles a day -
- for a good cause. For the women – mothers, sisters, mentors, friends – in our lives. I’m up for it – and I’m so glad Su will be there with me, blisters and sunshine and everything! Now if the other girls would only reply to the email…
(FYI – sort of new skin here – it’s just a clean-up of an older layout. Anyone know how I can completely wipe out & reset all skins so people don’t get error messages? Thanks.)

I’m not ashamed of the fact that I hate basements. I hate first floors of really tall buildings. It’s not really a claustrophobia thing as much as it is a “lots of wood and metal and furniture and heavy big things that could come crashing down on me” thing.
In case you haven’t picked up on it, I tend to be a paranoid freak. It’s the downside of having an overactive imagination.
And for as much as I hate the lower level of double-decker bridges, lobbies of tall hotels and so forth, I really, really, really hate parking garages with their low ceilings and layers and layers of heavy cars and trucks and concrete and metal and lots of things that can easily crush fragile Eka bones.
Wouldn’t you know it? Tonight I had to park in the basement of the parking garage. I was ok until I made the mistake of looking up – right into huge-ass cracks in the ceiling that they’ve filled back in with cement.
Needless to say, I was not a happy Eka until I got out into the fresh, winter air. No way, no how, no thanks – couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
*shudder*

Good god, just what I need – another addiction.
First Snood, then that Smack the Penguin game – now Guess the Dictator and/or Television Sit-Com Character – as if I don’t have other things to do.
I make these little deals with myself – I’ll play until I get this score, until I get to this level, blah blah. I’m trying to stump the game – and I can’t. Dammit, I need to shower and get ready for class! It guessed Topenga (from Boy Meets World), Cheri (from Punky Brewster) and Brian (from Still Standing) – WTF?!
Thanks a lot, Wendy, for the link. I’ll forgive you someday.

I figure if I’m going to be Little Eka Homemaker, I’m going to do it right.
I spent all day long cleaning the house, organizing the closets, sorting through job postings, throwing out trash, dusting and sweeping, doing laundry and running up and down two flights of stairs – over and over and over and over – clipping coupons (!), making lists (paint the bathroom! list that stuff on ebay!), doing more laundry, watching Oprah, realizing it’s 5pm and I still haven’t showered.
What is it about being home all day that turns on this internal switch that fills my brain with things like, “You missed half of Ellen!” “You must watch Days of Our Lives!” or “Hurry! Oprah’s on in 10 minutes!”? Nevermind that I haven’t watch DOOL since Marlena was possessed, and Oprah lost my vote ages ago when she went all spiritual-inner-me-lala.
Gah. I really don’t think I was meant to be in the house this much. How did I spend all that time wishing I could be home all the time? One week into the semester and I’m twitching. That thing earlier about wishing for snow and cancelled classes tomorrow? Yeah, I take it back. I’m not cut out for this. Must.have.job. Must.have.social.interaction.
And striking up conversation with the other homemakers on line at the grocery store doesn’t count.

Ahh, nothing like a good moment of panic when you can’t log in to your MT. I really need to start fresh – a new, clean blog that’s not weighed down by the 2300 entries kicking around in this one.
Insane. I’m really playing with the idea of a new domain name again, too. Maybe come spring, start fresh all over the place.
Though I am spending the morning in a cleaning frenzy – borderline spring cleaning – trying to get rid of the clutter that’s been driving me nuts and making me frustrated and yucky. Of course, the constant grey of the sky isn’t helping much – though, sadly, this is the very reason I love New England – there’s very little that can compare to the feeling of joy on that very first beautiful spring day, knowing there is a light at the end of the tunnel – that the sun is still out there, somewhere, and it’s coming back!
I opened a couple of windows this morning, just to get some fresh air – and then promptly closed them and turned up the heat – brrrr! I didn’t get the full-time tutoring job I was hoping for, so I’m going to need to find a routine that gets me out of the house on a daily basis – otherwise I am going to go nuts.
Spring better get here soon, or I’m going to go nuts. Two more months – and then things will warm up. Until then, here’s hoping the storm we get tonight dumps enough snow to cancel my morning classes.

Ok, now that’s I’ve had some time to process it all (and some sleep to make me a happier, more pleasant eka!), a little run-down on the birthing experience:
It was fucking awesome.
I don’t want to take away from Alisa’s story, so I won’t go into too many details – and I will say, it definitely alieviated my fear of birthing a child (moms, don’t get your hopes up, I still don’t want to birth one anytime in the near future).
It was a long weekend. The hardest part for me was seeing Alisa in so much pain and knowing there really was very little I could do to help her – it was something she had to go through. There was one point where it was just me, Alisa, her mom, the midwife and a nurse, and (without sounding too cheesy) I couldn’t help but think about the bond that women have, that feeling that only women can understand, and this huge connection to centuries of women who went through the same thing, the same process. I understood the process now – I wasn’t hearing it secondhand, watching it on TV – I was there, I saw it, I felt it, I watched, I helped. It was pretty incredible.
I thought I would have a tough time with it all – I figured I’d stay up top, rubbing her hair and looking everywhere but down. Instead, I was there watching and waiting to see his little head. For hours. It was fascinating – he finally burst through and the rest of him followed so quickly. Here was this little person that was made in her belly! A little person that’s all Alisa and Tom! A little boy we had been waiting so long to meet – he was here!
The most wonderful thing, though, was definitely seeing Alisa’s face once she saw him – all those hours and hours of pain and exhaustion disappeared, and she was glowing – her little man was here and she could hold him, and all those hours and all those contractions and every incredible ounce of pain were worth every little finger and every little toe and every little blink of his little eyes. Incredible.
I really felt so honored being there, being part of her family for that life-changing experience, for hearing her mom say, “Look! It’s your Aunt Erika!” I didn’t get to hold him – still had the sniffles and didn’t want to take the chance with this fragile little being – but I’m heading up in a little bit, and hopefully I’ll get to snuggle him a little today. It definitely makes me sadder that I wasn’t there to see Jonah born – but there are two amazing little baby boys in my life, both of whom I get to spoil rotten!
Incredible.

I’ve been looking for a domain name to use solely for my classes. Jay tossed out dependentclause.com or coordinatingconjunction.com, and that started the search for some cool grammar terms:

bareinfinitive.com
I’m thinking bareinfinitive – it’s sexy in a really hot PhD librarian sort of way.
That started the search for unusual words. I’d love to get something really good, and when they ask what it means, simply shrug my shoulders and say, “Look it up.”

Hi…Jason here…
Alisa gave birth to a healthy baby boy this morning!
more updates to come…

Looks like there will be a new little Peanut in the world this weekend! Alisa (obviously) has the details up, but they’re pretty much getting her ready to have him in the next two or three days (or maybe today!). So I’ll be up there with her, watching movies and hanging out until the real fun begins, and then it’s all about the calming visualization, aromatherapy and meditation music. Wheeee!
Jay jokes that this experience will make or break me when it comes to carrying (and delivering!) our own kid – and while I’m no closer to wanting to be pregnant, I have to say, the sound of little Peanut’s heartbeat filling the room yesterday definitely was really effin cool.
So if you don’t hear from me for a couple of days, that’s why. I’m heading up to finish packing my bags and get ready for class, and then I’m off to the hospital. When anything major happens, Jay will let you know – either here or at Alisa’s, but most likely both.
Wheeeeeeeeee!

Holy shit, the Mormons just knocked on my door!
No one knows where we live, really, so the knock threw me for a loop. After the recent murder (the level 3 sex offender-murderer lived about a mile away) – I’m a little on edge. I could hear men’s voices, so I called Jay, just in case anything was sketchy.
It was the Mormons! The Mormons came a-knockin!
When I was in college, I made the mistake of inviting them in. I was in my questioning-phase – Is there a God? What is my path? – You know the routine. Yeah – bad call. They would not leave me alone. They called once to give me a hard time about not attending services one day when I thought I might.
Word of advice: Do NOT tell them you don’t need God in your life right now. Holy crap – you’d think I stoned his little sister or something.
So Jay and I were talking (post-”Here, can I at least leave you some of those little booklets that are going to remind you about how hot hell is, you sinner” fight with the Mormon boys), and he said he really wants to become a crazy door knocker, too – and then he caught himself:
“Oh, no – not a door knocker… I want to be a crazy boot knocker. Silly me, mixing the two up.”
Yes, folks, dat’s my husband.
(For the record, I don’t have problems with Mormons – just the ones that come knocking on my door and won’t leave when I say I’m not interested. I swear, he almost went to put his foot in to block me from closing the door!)