That's A Wrap

My 28th birthday week can officially go down as the best ever. Against everyone's will but my own, I managed to stretch a birth day into an entire seven-day span, Sunday to Sunday, all in honor of aging. Mother's Day launched it, Leiah's baby shower capped it, every day in between was perfecto. After my excellent massage with Alli on Tuesday, I had my last-ever board meeting as president of the Lexington Art League on Wednesday. I've been volunteering with the LAL since Jen and I went to the Nude exhibit about six years ago and have been on the board for the last four years. I've made some incredible friends and accidentally acquired a phenomenal mentor at the LAL, but more than that, I've been blessed with feeling first-hand how art enhances life. If you haven't discovered the heightened existence that art can bring to your days on this planet, use the LAL as your portal -- www.lexingtonartleague.org.

On Thursday I spent the rainy day at work and then came home, crawled into bed and watched Amandla, a beautiful movie about how song helped stop the Apartheid in South Africa. I slipped into a rainy day nap and woke up to warm snuggles from a boyfriend I had been really mean to earlier in the day. Birthdays are great for milking forgiveness.

Finally Friday came, and that meant putting on some roller skates and seeing how much more vulnerable my bones had become in the last five years. I spent my 23rd birthday at the skating rink, when it was $2 to get in and $1 to rent skates. I guess since allowance is up to like $20 a week, the rink can raise its entry fee to $7 (skate rental is still $1, but brace yourself for the smelliest skates in the world). As Ruble so adequately observed, there are 12-year-olds with more sex appeal than I've ever had skating around that rink... girls making up skate dances and flittering by in glitter and sequins, boys with puffed up afros bouncing around the outer edge at 35 miles per hour. I didn't fall down this time, so I must be getting better with age. It probably didn't hurt that my skates were so cool even the sexy 12-year-olds jocked me. Loser babies.
Mai Thai was delicious as expected, and even though Liz, Mel and Paxon couldn't come to the dinner part, I got to have a great dinner with the rest of my skating posse -- Mack, Shannon, Charles, Jamie (some of you may know Jamie as Tracy Taylor from the Halloween party), Leigh, Phil, Jon and Ruble -- and Leiah and Allie met up with us. Ten good fortunes later, we split up, me and Mack, seeing as how we were carless, with Shannon and Charles to go to John Rose's birthday party. John and Charles have been buds since high school, and I've known John as the drummer for the Mecca belly dancers and through S&C's wedding. We had a great time drinking beer once Shannon got rid of the sour milk smell that emanated from some cream sauce on the coffee table. Teresa Tomb, one of Mecca's mothers, brought back an interesting liquor called Das Komet from the local liquor store, where the clerk actually said to her, "I could dance around you all night." The bottle was dusty, but the liquid was vanilla and smooth. The fun part was really in the name... saying Das Komet just forces you into a German accent that gets harder to shake the more Das Komet you have. Charles, ever responsible, carted the drunk wagon home, and I slept deep and good until Mack started pushing a vitamin on me at 8 a.m. to stave off any possible hangover... when the water ran out and he had to get a refill "cause it's my birthday week."

Saturday took me back to the Ketch to work, but it wasn't too bad. Shannon and Charles came in for bloody marys and Liz met up with them later. Once my patio section slowed down I sat with them, drinking Red Stripe and laughing at the rednecks on their wedding anniversary sitting at the next table over. It was a quiet laugh until after they left, when I went to clear their table and Shannon informed me that the woman had shoved four placemats up her shirt and stolen them. I guess she needed an anniversary gift, and the Ketch's stripy Big Lots placemats were what she really wanted. After work, I collected Mack from Marikka's, where he was wowing girls with his awesome new magic tricks, and played Taboo until Liz said she was tired and the rest of us finally admitted to it.

Sunday I slept in a little bit and then woke up to read the paper with Liz before getting ready for the shower. About 2:30, people that I love started coming over, by 3:15 I was laughing so hard I was crying, and by 6:30, it was like nothing ever happened. We had a co-ed shower, which got to be my dad's first-ever baby shower, and played some of my favorite shower games -- Guess the Poo, Who Sucks the Best and Feeding Frenzy.
Feeding Frenzy is lodged in my memory forever from Kate's baby shower, when Jeremy picked spinach-flavored baby food and had it fed to him by Jennifer. His face was priceless, but he was such a good sport. I was relieved when he got mango this time, but I think he still has a baby food curse. His food was gelatinous and came out in huge clumps, but he delivered yet another memorable performance. David and Lisa also gave a strong performance, but this time Heidi and Nick were the most fun to watch. Heidi made out with the apple blueberry baby food jar while Nick tried to spoon it into her mouth. Somehow between drinking it and having it shoveled in, Heidi managed to address the crowd to let them know "This stuff is good." That almost made me pee my pants.

Who Sucks the Best came down to a heated finish between Phil and Rachel. Rachel ended up winning, but only by about 1/2 a teaspoon. Basically it was a race to suck 5 oz. of juice from a baby bottle. This is an awful game to participate in, because all the sucking wears out your mouth and gives you a headache that shows up a couple hours later, but it is a great game to watch. Grown-ups acting like babies.
It was great to meet Matt's family and see some of Leiah and Matt's friends, and they made out with some loot. Thanks to everybody who came to the shower and to my birthday party. You made it more special than I hoped it would be. Now, just 298 days until my 29th birthday week!!

The Endorsement Series: Part 3 in however many merit it

Allison "Alli" Reschke, one of Leiah's best friends who I have known since Leiah and she were 12 or 13, has always been sweeter than honey, even when she is puking peppermint schnapps on the back deck or letting me douse her with fake blood to complete her Carrie costume for Halloween. See, Alli shows us up at Thanksgiving by bringing our Mom flowers. She brightens our Christmas by popping over with some thoughtful gift. And on birthdays, she tries to give us free massages, even though her massages are already cheap and even though we go out of town when it's her birthday.

Alli has been through some of the most insane and unfair reality god has bestowed upon one human and that she still lights up a room with her smile is all the more incredible considering what she has endured. Alli has been there for Leiah through everything - through her move to Louisville from Lexington, from Louisville to Lexington, through college, and college, and college, through boyfriend, and boyfriend, and boyfriend, and through baby time. Where other friends have ebbed and flowed, Alli has been steady and strong and supportive. And our family has come to love her and claim her as one of our own.

Today I personally experienced the Alli touch. I needed to get these old stress wads out of my back and neck, so I called the masseuse I adore for other reasons... Ms. Alli. I'd never had more than a sampling of her magic touch before today. She fit me in in no time, rubbed out all the ouches, and left me feeling like I had a new back. It feels like a single unit now, whereas before it felt like a neck, shoulders, upper back, bra-strap back, lower back and side back. Each part had its own complaints, but now they are singing in harmony.

And at $40 an hour, she adds "most affordable" to her title of Best Masseuse in Lexington. Go, see her, be touched by her, claim her as your own.

(Alli can be found at Southland Medical Center, at 137 Cherrybark off of Southland. Her number is 539-6155. She is not one of those weird, "I'm gonna touch you all over," "That hurts but I'm embarassed to tell her" masseuses either. She does just what you want, just hard enough to work.)

Birthday Week Begins

The World's Greatest Mom, with her Little bodyguard

What better way to celebrate your birth than to wrap it up in Mother's Day. Well, since I'm pretty close to perfect, I got to start my birthday week the perfect way. Not only did I get my mom, but I got my dad, my Betsy, my Leiah, my Shannon, my Charles, my Mack, my mostly-mother-in-law, my mostly-father-in-law, my mostly-new-little-sister-in-law and my still-in-the-belly nephew Ben all under one roof for strawberry cake and presents.The Littlest Sisters

Leiah's First Mother's Day

The Whole Fam Damily, the Originals

The Original Male and His Imposters Clamor for Power

It was one of the best days of my almost-28-year-old life, made even better today, when, after acting like Cinderella all day and scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees until I got blisters on my knees (which I didn't realize until many hours after I was finished with said scrubbing), Leigh came over with a brown sequined scarf and some gold Chinese Laundry heels as my birthday present (okay, she then proceeded to help me wear them so I wouldn't look completely dorky, which was the best gift). Then, I got to go for pizza, specialty Guiness drinks and bowling with two of my favorite people to hang with. I missed volleyball, which I didn't realize until many hours after its scheduled time, but I had a fabulous birthday week Monday nonetheless. I even got two strikes in the tenth frame for a bonus bowl.

My Patented "White-Girl-Arms-in-the-Air-Excited" Dance

And to think, tomorrow I've got a massage at 1pm with Allie to work the knots out of my neck and back. At this rate, by my skate party on Friday I should be positively floating. Life is good.

Boy Oh Boy

I called my friend Heather last Monday to see how her belly was feeling. She was due to have her second son, Cole Henderson Wall, any day now, and I had a couple of meetings and didn't want to miss the call if she suddenly went into labor. She was ready to be done being pregnant, but assured me that I had a couple of hours to live a normal life. I had plans to be with Heather for this birth, mainly because she's a fellow photography worshipper and wanted to capture some of the special moments associated with having a baby. My mom promised me it would change my life, and as usual, Mom was right.

Relying on what must have been some subconscious awareness I brought my cell phone to bed with me Monday night. I read a little of Us Weekly and finally went to sleep around 1 a.m. A few minutes later, say 120 of them, I got a call from Heather Cell. It must be time.

In my surprisingly alert 3 a.m. state, I packed a bag, grabbed my camera, and drove to Louisville. The drive was pretty uneventful until I got to the Jefferson County line and the heavens decided to open up and show off the lightning and thunder they'd been brewing. I arrived at the hospital at 5:10 a.m. and walked into a labor and delivery room to find my best friend of 18 years gritting her teeth and contorting her body trying to get comfortable. She was three centimeters dialated and, between contractions, was as lucid as a person can be expected to be at 5:15 a.m. Just don't touch her.
She breathed and squirmed and told her mom to tell the nurses to get her something for the pain. They said she couldn't have her epideral since she wasn't far enough along so she settled on chewing ice and smelling alcohol swabs to control her nausea. I tried to make her comfortable or make her laugh, but she was somewhere else. Something was taking over her body, distracting her mind from realities outside of herself. The nurses gave John, her husband, an ID bracelet, and he casually watched television and made some phone calls. Her mom came back in the room, and Heather scooted up the bed. "My water just broke."

Are you sure? her mom asked. She left to tell the nurse, who brought in a strip of green paper that reminded me of the litmus paper from 9th grade science and dipped it into what I have come to call a puppy pad, which Heather sat on. The color changed in confirmation, and when the nurse said a little too softly for comfort, "You're really moving. You're at seven," the entire atmosphere of the room changed.

Seconds turned into hours, heartrates increased both in and out of the womb, and breathing became the most important thing in the room. When the nurse said, in that too soft and too calm tone that make nurses professionals, that Heather might not get an epideral, the room hushed. What are you talking about, no epideral? No way. That is not how this was supposed to go. She's not ready for a natural birth. I'm not ready for a natural birth.
The nurses called for the doctor and started setting up the room to receive Cole. Two tables and several pairs of clamps found a place in the room. Heather breathed and twisted her face into expressions of pain that I had never seen before. I wanted to reach in and take some of her pain from her. John was scared at how fast it was all moving and began to sob in a way not ever expected from a man as tall as he is. He rubbed her head and heaved his body up and down. Her mom moved in and held her hand, reminding her to breathe, trying to bring John back to her. Prayers, pleas, groans and fear came from Heather's mouth. She said she couldn't do this, but at that point she had no choice. Her body was just a tool that nature was using to further its own agenda. She almost cried when she said, "It burns so bad," and then whispered to God to get her through this.

I was stunned. John was sobbing. Jan was coaxing. Heather was breathing and had retreated to someplace deep inside herself that the rest of us couldn't even imagine. I think it's where you go if you're ever assaulted or shot or kidnapped or in a car accident or have a really violent parent, that place where your body keeps you from fully understanding what is happening to you. Just then, something screamed.
Cole was bloody and small with blue hands and feet. He kicked his legs and splayed out his fingers. His nose and eyes and lips were too big for his tiny face. He was like a raging loaf of bread. His cries expanded his little chest and puffs of air came out with them. John cut the cord, and the baby was placed on his mommy's chest. Heather, who is one of the most modest people I know except when it comes to gas, sat accessible and courageous in the bed, color rushing back to her face as quickly as it dripped from her body. Cole blinked his milky blue eyes and the nurses cleaned him up, took his footprints, and gave him the Wall family ID bracelet. His six-pound body was the most active it will be for the next two months in its first two hours.
I still can't imagine what it is like for him. Leaving the warm fluid world inside his mother's body and coming into ours, rotten with gravity and changing temperatures and oxygen. How does he know to breathe? How can he transition from an aquatic environment to an atmospheric one without any knowledge? How amazing is his little body? How amazing is his mother's that it was able to grow him?
Seeing Cole come to life changed mine. It wasn't beautiful or romantic or meaningful in the way they want you to think it is. It was rugged, awful, scary, thrilling and dangerous. It was a miracle -- that people can survive the process is a miracle, that people repeatedly go through childbirth is a miracle, that children never fully have to understand what their mothers went through to bring them into this world is a miracle.
Thank you for sharing this part of motherhood with me, Heather and John. And thank you, Mom, for keeping it from me.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

It Turns Out I'm a Major Nerd

Shannon said to me once, "Maybe I'm not as attractive as I think I am." She wasn't saying it as in, "My god I think I am so incredibly fantastically beautiful and people should know this," but more like, "Jesus, I might be worse off than I thought. How mortifying that I've been walking around thinking I'm a 7 and here I am a 4." That is how I feel after making a video for a travel show casting call.

Maybe I'm even more of a nerd than I thought I was.

I've never really meshed with the total dorks, well, because I liked to party and was able to make conversation. And I never really meshed with the cool kids, well, because I find them annoying and I didn't understand hair and makeup until a year ago. I happily existed in the not-quite-a-dork-not-all-the-way-cool realm for my entire life. It let me merge with losers and winners, the pretties and the uglies, the smart and the dumb. I always thought I was a good, strong, unmoveable 5. I was great with that. Until this video thing.

I've always hated my voice on video, mainly because I sound like a man trying to be a woman or a woman in a transgender pre-op state. I growl and squeal at the same time, and it's just not natural. I've always hated the way I look on video because I have a big ass. Usually I can keep my dorkiness from being the only thing that comes across by having gigantic expressions or licking the lens. For this video, no such tricks could be enacted. And now, I'm left with a greater self-awareness, this time not for the better.

See, Mack and I are applying, most likely fruitlessly, for a show on the travel channel based on the book 1,000 Things to See Before You Die. I lack the video creativity that Phil has and Mack lacks the patience that I have, so together we made the most embarassing video ever created. No, it's not funny. It's not endearing. It's just bad. And we are nerds.

We are majorly nerds. I talk out of the side of a curled up mouth like I just had a stroke. He gets an Al Bundy persona on film. I become some sort of perky cheerleader optimist. He unsuccessfully channels James Dean. The end result is obvious to me, so to all of my friends and family who spend time with me, sorry and thank you and what's wrong with you?

Hopefully this video will stay under wraps at the Travel Channel. In the meantime, I'm sticking with still photography. It captures our nerdiness in a much more flattering light.

7-Day Warning (with a Bonus 3-Day Window)!!!

Dear Beloved Friends and Family,

Just seven days from today I will be celebrating the successful completion of 27 years on this planet and welcoming the 28th year of my existence. To celebrate my continued mobility and because it's just about the most fun thing to do ever, I am having a roller skating party followed by a Thai dinner on Friday, May 19. Plan to join me at Champs on Palumbo at 7pm, roll around a bit, and then head to Mai Thai on Limestone at 9pm for some yummy Thai food, which is very good if you haven't ever tried it. Originally we had planned to skate on my actual birthday, but since Lexington is worthless, the rink is only open from 1-4pm on my actual birthday, and that just doesn't work with my lifestyle or with the lifestyles of my amigos with real jobs. So, there you have it. Friday, May 19, 7pm. Kids can come too, and maybe, just maybe, if I'm really sweet and dress like Princess Leia, Jonah will do a couple skate with me!

And, that same weekend, on Sunday from 3-5 at my house, Leiah's baby shower!! Don't forget! Hope to see you all at both fun things! I LOVE MAY!

Love,
Amber