also: what's with the fat chick?
So, what's been going on? You haven't posted in days.
There are reports of mass graves holding 100 or more people on ranches near Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Who is believed responsible for killing this many people, and why was the main reason some (though by no means all) of them were killed?
(Don't send me your answers. This is just a little way to expand your horizons. Honest.)
I called the car dealer two days ago and we dropped Darin's car off yesterday for the tuneup and for various other things to get fixed. So many things needed to be done that they needed the car overnight, and it wasn't done until this afternoon.
(Yes, I know: they probably didn't start working on it until this afternoon.)
I drove Darin to the dealer this afternoon and then left him to go browse in Borders. Have I mentioned that there's now a Borders in my neighborhood? Yes, my neighborhood is now complete with a major bookstore. I no longer have to drive 5 to 10 miles (one-way) to attend a temple of the word. Life's pretty good.
Darin had already finished at the dealer and gotten home before me. I opened the door into the house and heard the alarm going off.
Oh damn, I thought, I didn't even think to check if the alarm was on before opening the door. (I had clearly totally forgotten about Darin's car sitting right there, meaning he was already at home.) I punched in the secret code into the pad.
Darin met me at the door. "It's broken," he shouted at me. From five feet away.
The alarm was not responding to the code. It's a deafeningly loud sound, many decibels' worth.
Darin was already on the phone with the alarm company, pacing around our bedroom. I sat on the bed. "Why don't you leave?" he said to me.
"'Cause it's quieter down here," I said.
"No, why don't you leave the house?" he said.
Oh. Hey. There was an idea.
I went over to Pane Dolce and sat down with a novel. Darin called me to update me what was going on--there were 7 other extremely pissed-off alarm company clients in the queue ahead of him and only one technician at work. The alarm company told Darin to break into the alarm box and dismantle the battery (which was supposed to run for 8 to 12 hours). Catch: the box is locked, and only the alarm company has the key.
"Do you want me to go by Orchard Supply Hardware and get a crowbar?" I asked.
"Not yet," Darin said. "But soon."
After an hour or so, he called me and said the alarm was intermittent now, the battery clearly running down. We might be able to sleep in our own house tonight. Albeit, with a dead alarm battery.
I came home at 6pm and settled downstairs with my Powerbook. At 7:30, Darin called the alarm company again.
They had no record of his requesting service. In fact, the technician had already called it a day (or a night) and gone home. "Do you still want us to send someone out tonight?"
Darin's reaction? Oh, let's just say, you never want to be on the receiving end of Darin being pissed off. For example, he pointed out to them that he had clients calling him at home and he had been unable to talk to them because of a deafening, unstoppable alarm in the background, dammit. He arranged a more sensible time for them to come by: say, during the day. He'd had enough of waiting around at this point.
After we get this alarm foolishness settled, we'll be changing alarm companies. Post-haste.
Didn't even dawn on me until later that Bug already has her aural faculties. I bet she didn't appreciate that alarm noise one little bit.
Fernando stopped by, mid-alarm-nonsense, to do some network stuff with Darin. He asked me what's been going on (since I haven't been posting).
Answer: not much. Outside of my psyche, that is.
I feel like I've exploded outward in the past week. There were reportedly some people during Thanksgiving who didn't know I was pregnant. I can't imagine there were any this week. My tummy seems to have doubled every time I look at it. I feel like I've started to waddle.
Now, I know what you're going to say, please don't, I know it already: Diane, you're pregnant. Yes, thanks, I'm well on top of that development. (Or should I say, well underneath it.) I'm in the seventh month (January being 8, February 9) and should probably be showing some. But I'm not adjusting at all well to what's happening.
One of the reasons the birth rate's falling, I guess. Women don't want to look this way.
Darin is trying to be helpful--pointing out I'm not fat, saying how cute I look, refusing to dignify my comments about his "fat wife." (Or, like tonight, saying, "You mean I gotta go out and find myself a fat wife now too?")
I enjoyed hardly showing at all. I realize that now. Even though my figure had changed some, no one in the outside world had an inkling I was pregnant until a few weeks ago, when Fernando said, "Today's the first time I can tell you're pregnant." But he was looking for it: most people hadn't a clue.
I don't feel attractive, I don't feel like this is natural, I don't feel as though I should be enjoying having a belly on me. I've had friends tell me they reveled in being pregnant--hasn't happened for me. Or it was an experience that showed them what their bodies were really for--nope, I'm not there. I just feel fat. I feel as though my body's out of control--certainly out of my control--and I don't like it.
The only part I like is when Darin and I are lying in bed at night and I can feel the bouncing around inside of me. I pull down the bedcovers and we watch the pokes and kicks fluttering around my tummy. I like that. Trying to imagine what she looks like now, how big she is, whether she feels it when I press down on a part of my stomach.
Everything else about being pregnant sucks: having to go to the bathroom constantly, not having clothes that are attractive or fit, and getting fat. I guess that's narcissistic, but that's how I feel. Don't write and tell me to enjoy being pregnant; it ain't going to happen. Modern American society is not conducive to the happy pregnant female.
The answer to Tuesday's question: Exxon and Mobil, which have now merged, were once part of Standard Oil, John D. Rockefeller's oil monopoly, the monopoly by which all future monopolies--including the out of Seattle--are measured. Rockefeller, of course, was even richer after the breakup of Standard Oil than he was before, so he laughed all the way to the bank to the people who said that breaking the trust would break him.
I like to keep Standard Oil in mind when people lament about what a bummer it would be to break up Microsoft. Just think: in a hundred years it can all come together again with the Justice Department's blessing.
A really good book about John D. Rockefeller--who was a very interesting character and well worth reading about--is Titan: the Life of John D. Rockefeller by Ron Chernow. Not at all the easy-to-pigeonhole guy you might have suspected (or wanted him to be). Check it out.
Bonus answer: the WTO, for those of you who use the Internet frequently but don't take advantage of its news capabilities, is the World Trade Organization, and they've been having a little hoe-down in Seattle this week. A few protestors showed up to Make A Statement and try to attract attention to what's essentially a very secretive and unknown organization that affects lots of people's lives (including yours, no matter who you are--welcome to the global economy).
You'll note that most of the news coverage talked about the protests and not very much about the WTO. Conspiracy theorist corner: This is because a)most Americans are morons who can't figure the complex issues out and b)most news outlets are owned by conglomerates that have their own issues to be decided by the WTO and don't want too much scrutiny.
Mother Jones (a left-wing magazine) printed the Top Ten Reasons to Shutter the WTO. Take with salt shaker.
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com