City Wendy

New Beginnings

On New Year's Day, I woke up and brushed my teeth in the bathroom like I do every morning. As I leaned over the sink to spit, something caught my eye in the mirror. Not something, but somethings — two of them. Two strands of white hair beaming from the crown of my head like a light show. Well, I guess I'm really not getting any younger, I thought to myself, as I finished wiping my mouth. 2011 is the year I turn 35.

"I'm ready to make a baby," I announced to Drew as I crawled back in bed.

"Really?" He asked.

I'd originally told him I wanted to wait until after my birthday in September so I could enjoy one last carefree summer of unencumbered bike rides and Mojitos at Happy Hour.

"Fuck it," I said, "Let's just do this. It's probably going to take awhile anyway, so let's get this show on the road."

"Yes!" He exclaimed.

The next month my period was due and didn't come, so I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. I threw it in the trash.

I guess I'm just late, I thought, It's not going to happen this fast anyhow.

Then I sat down at my computer and started working. A couple hours later, I had this gnawing feeling I couldn't shake. "Look at that test again," a little voice in my head urged.

So I dug the test out of the trash and studied it. Still negative. I mean, right? There are supposed to be two lines if you're pregnant and I saw just one. Or maybe there was a really, really faint second line. I held the test under a lamp. Hmm. There was sort of a faint second line there. I Googled it: "Faint second line, pregnancy tests." A bunch of images popped up. They all looked just like my test. I read the descriptions of those images, many of them from blogs. I followed the links to the blogs and read about babies — babies that had been born eight months after those faint second lines showed up on pee sticks.

Oh wow. Was I going to have a baby?

I took six more tests over the next three days. Really, six. They were all positive, and clearly so. (Tip: if you want to skip the "Is it or isn't it" riddle, go digital!).

Last week, we had our second OB/midwife appointment and got to see our baby squirming around during an ultrasound. He (I have a feeling it's a he, but of course don't know for sure) was moving around so much — kicking his legs and flapping his arms — it was hard to get a good picture, but the sonographer managed to snap this:

I think he looks like Drew.

Yesterday I started my second trimester. I'm hoping to start feeling better soon. Luckily, I haven't had much nausea, but the fatigue, among other unpleasantries, has been relentless and unbearable. Some mornings I can hardly lift my head off the pillow. And most nights I've been asleep before nine, sometimes even before eight. Having any kind of social life these last couple of months has been a challenge, but I guess that's something I need to get used to anyway. My thyroid levels are three times higher than they should be, which is probably adding to the fatigue, so now that I'm taking medication for that, I'm hopeful I'll have more energy soon. If not, well, I suppose I need to get used to feeling exhausted all the time too.

Anyway, Drew and I are very excited. Very excited! We didn't anticipate this happening so quickly, and as much as I'll miss drinking champagne when I'm in Paris next month, I'm so, so grateful we have what seems to be a healthy baby snuggled in my belly (oh my God, I have a baby in my belly!). I'm sure we'll have plenty of parenting struggles in the not-so-distant future, so I'm happy that getting pregnant is one we were spared — at least this time. Baby's due on October 24th — exactly nine months to the day after I launched Dear Wendy. Guess there were "new beginnings" in my chart that week...

The Day I Turned Into My Mother

Years from now I may remember Sunday, October 24, 2010 as the day I officially turned into my mother. It's been happening for awhile now. Certain words and phrases have been sneaking into my vernacular against my best defense. This year, I began saying "fall foliage" with gusto. And while my kitchen is nowhere near as well-stocked as my mother's — she could open a food pantry with the amount of canned goods she has — I do have an entire shelf full of nothing but tomato sauce. I'm not even Italian! Much to my dismay, a couple times in recent months, I've caught myself stuffing a book or an umbrella into a plastic bag on my way out of the door and then leaving the house carrying it, instead of grabbing any of my far more stylish and less offensive totes or large purses. It's almost like I'm possessed. And much more than I care to admit, my mood is directly related to how my hair looks. Rain, it turns out, has the power to ruin my entire day, if only for the amount of frizz if causes.

But perhaps the biggest — and quite sudden — example of the apple not falling far from the tree is my recent obsession with coupons. My mother could wallpaper her whole house with the number of coupons she collects. She'll buy stuff online just to have an excuse to use a 15% off coupon code. Restaurant coupons are her favorite now. The woman will travel an hour away for lunch because she has "buy one entree, get one half off" coupon at The Taco Joint. I can top that, though. I planned an entire weekend getaway around two coupons I got from Restaurant.com.

See, Restaurant.com was having an 80% off sale (it ends today, you guys! You have, like, five more hours to take advantage of it) where if you typed in the code "PUMPKIN" at checkout you'd get 80% off your final price. EIGHTY PERCENT, people! In case your math skills are as bad as mine, that means if you found a $25 gift certificate for $10, you would actually only pay two bucks! Two bucks for $25 worth of food and booze!! I mean, come on. Wouldn't you plan an entire weekend getaway around savings like that?

Well, that's exactly what I did. A few weeks ago, Drew and I decided we'd both take this past Monday off and go somewhere for a three-day weekend to enjoy the "fall foliage." Last Tuesday, we still didn't have any ideas for where to go — that's what happens when your husband can't think or talk about anything but postseason baseball — when I accidentally discovered I could get a coupon to the restaurant we fell in love with last fall on our trip upstate to Cold Spring. The $25 coupon was enough to sell me, but with a little more research I discovered that Beacon, NY, the town one stop north of Cold Spring, was home to Dia:Beacon, the country's largest contemporary art museum ... AND, not only that, there was a restaurant in town that was also offering $25 coupons on Resturant.com for two bucks. Two $25 coupons to two different restaurants for a total of 4 bucks?! Plus, all that awesome upstate fall foliage? OMG, SOLD!

So, Sunday rolls around and we get up early to catch the Metro North and horror of horrors, when we arrive in Beacon, where we've reserved a room in a lovely B&B, I realize that while I printed the coupon certificate for the restaurant in Cold Spring, I neglected to print the coupon for the restaurant in Beacon. And rather than enjoy the afternoon in this charming little town, I make it my mission for the rest of the day to track down a printer and get a hard copy of my coupon. Our B&B doesn't seem to have a printer. The Dia museum, while full of enormous art installations, does not have a printer for public use. I call the local library and find out they do have printers, but they close in 40 minutes and are on the other side of town, over a mile and a half away ... uphill.

This is when, if I weren't possessed with the spirit of my mother, I'd give up and say "Oh well! Where's the nearest bar?" But instead, I sprint across town, huffing and puffing and carrying on the whole way. Miraculously, we get there with fifteen minutes to spare. But! And this is so heartbreaking to talk about — the computers automatically shut down seven minutes before closing, and by the time I got a special guest pass to use the computers and got logged on and got to my Restaurant.com account, there were only 30 seconds left. You guys, I was literally in the middle of printing my coupon when the computer shut off! I begged and pleaded with the librarians to turn the computers back on and let me finish, but they didn't seem to understand the severity of the issue.

"Once the computers shut off, we really can't turn them back on," they told me, shrugging their shoulders.

"What if there's an emergency?" I nearly shouted. "You're telling me you honestly can't turn the computers back on?"

"Well, it takes several minutes for them to boot up and it's closing time now," the head librarian explained.

"But!" I argued. "I have a $25 coupon certificate!! I bought it for two dollars specifically for this trip using the special code PUMPKIN! I came to Beacon to use that coupon and if you don't turn the computers back on and let me finish printing it out, everything will be ruined forever! Ruined, I tell you!"

For some reason, the librarian was not moved. In fact, she shuttled me out of the library as quickly as possible — Drew had already stepped outside minutes earlier to "get some air" — and nervously locked the doors behind me.

But still, I would not claim defeat. For the next half hour, I walked up and down Main St. looking for a copy center where I might finish my print job. It wasn't meant to be, though, and when I finally made it to this cute wine bar called Chill, it took a bottle and a half of Prosecco and thirty minutes of iPhone research to accept that I was probably not going to find a printer in that town before dinnertime. Still, I held out hope that with my coupon reference number, which I was able to track down, I could somehow finagle a discount at the restaurant. How else was I supposed to enjoy my meal if I didn't know for sure I was getting it for $25 off the menu price?

But, sadness, you guys. The dopes at the restaurant would not hear of such a thing. Not only was their pork chop mediocre and overpriced, they basically laughed in our faces when we asked about using a coupon we couldn't print out.

"But, here it is!" I said, waving Drew's iPhone in the waitress' face. "We have the reference number and everything!"

But, that wasn't enough, and oh, what a sad, sad realization it was that we'd have to pay full price for dinner.

I'm happy to report, though, that we had no problem using our coupon at the French restaurant in Cold Spring the next afternoon. We also had no problem polishing off another bottle and a half of wine with our lunch. It turns out, I've got some of my dad's genes, too.

The Big Easy

Recently, I started a list of Things I Want To Do Before I Have A Baby, which is mostly a list of places I've never been and want to visit (California, South America, Charleston, SC, maybe Seattle), but also includes things like "maintain regular exercise regimen for a year" (so it's maybe a little easier to take baby weight off) and "make headway on book," which I left vague on purpose in case the closest I ever get to this goal is finishing a library book, I'll still have the satisfaction of crossing it off my list. I also have a slightly less ambitious list of "Things I Want To Do Before I Get Pregnant" (assuming I can and will get pregnant), which is basically a list of bars I want to hit, parties I want to host, and places I want to travel where booze is a predominant theme. To that end, Drew and I made travel plans over the weekend to visit New Orleans in a few weeks. It will be my first time there and I'm très excited.

So, a few questions for you guys: Have you been to NOLA? What places (to eat, drink, see) do you recommend (especially for a first time visitor)? And, let's say your goal is to have a kid in the next, oh, 12-18 months or so. What do you add to your "must do before" list? And if you have kids, what's the biggest thing you miss about being child-free that if you could go back in time, you'd really live up? Just curious.

Getting the Message Loud and Clear

Over the weekend, I made great strides in achieving something that's been a goal of mine since I moved to New York. You guys, I am *this close* to getting Drew to throw out his answering machine — or at least put it away, out of sight, in some keepsake box — once and for all. This answering machine, as you might imagine, is, like, a relic from the early 90s. Maybe it's even older than that. At any rate, I'm sure Drew had it when Seinfeld was still on in prime time.

The machine used to be white, but now, as you can see, it's gray. And when I moved in with Drew almost three years ago, I bit my tongue about it even though it grossed me out. I had to pick my battles, you see. I figured it was enough that I made Drew throw out all his old diaries. His answering machine, in the great scheme of things, wasn't that big of a deal. As long as I sort of strategically hid it on the windowsill behind a curtain.

But now we're in this nice, new apartment with a new phone number no one even knows — seriously, I don't even know it! — and the 20 year-old answering machine seems even more out-of-place than ever. So I asked Drew over the weekend if he didn't (please, oh please) think it was time to finally throw it out.

"No one's going to call this number," I reasoned, "And even if they do and we aren't home and they don't try us on our cell phones, they can still leave a message on the land line if we get voice mail for it. They have that now!"

Drew wasn't compelled enough by my argument to get rid of the answering machine altogether, but he did unplug it at least. Unfortunately, after he left for work this morning, I noticed the gray beast was plugged back in, which means this battle is going to be tougher than I originally imagined. I guess this is to be expected from a guy who regularly calls his iPod a "walkman." Wish me luck.

Talks From the Trenches, Vol. I

Him: I've been doing really well on my diet and only eating salad for lunch at work. ...Well, I mean wraps. Those count, right?

Me: Wraps don't count as salad.

Him: Yes they do. It's basically just vegetables all wrapped up.

Me: Are you talking about a lettuce wrap?

Him: No, a wrap-wrap, like with a tortilla wrap.

Me: Yeah, that's not a salad, Drew.

Him (throwing up his arms): Well, it's not bread!!!

                        ***************************

(Before going out for our fourth anniversary dinner last night.)

Him: How do I look?

Wendy: Good, but I think it's time for some new jeans.

Him: Tell me about it! But do you know how hard it is to find jeans that fit?

Wendy: ...

Him: No, seriously! I have to try on, like, four pairs before I find something that fits!

Wendy: Oh, please. I have to try on 80.

Him: No one likes a bragger.

Drew's Video Blog

Andrew Condell in Canada Day 1 from Andrew Condell on Vimeo.

Drew started a video-blog — a vlog, a video chronicle, a video-whatever-you-want-to-call-it! So far, it's about his adventures in Vancouver, and uh, I guess there haven't been that many yet! But I spoke to him earlier this morning and he said he and his co-workers walked to work today, so stay stay tuned for that exciting story! And last night they went out for Malaysian! And he says the air is very clean and fresh in Vancouver and the women are beautiful. Well, he didn't say the part about the women being beautiful, but I bet they are. Also, you will see that Drew is very funny in a sort of quiet Bob Newhart kind of way. He makes me laugh a lot. It's one of the many reasons I married him. Also, I like how he sings karaoke.

Five: View From A Roof at Twilight In January

I took this photo from my roof last night around 5:45 or so. I happened to look out the window and liked the blue of the sky so I grabbed my camera and ran upstairs. It was the first time I'd been on the roof in months — maybe even since the end of August or so. I remember going up the weekend before our honeymoon when my friends Chad and Neil were in town for a wedding.

It was a lovely summer evening when they got back to our place and Drew and I had brought some wine and cheese up to the roof and laid out a blanket and dragged our two chairs to face the buildings in this photo. We brought up our iPod and speakers and plugged in the paper lights we'd strung for our wedding a few weeks before, and we stayed up there for hours. It was one of those nights I felt exactly where and who I was supposed to be, and it was wonderful — one of my favorite memories at this address, I'd say.

It was decidedly much colder last night and I only fiddled around with the camera a few minutes before running back inside. If I'd had a tripod, I think I would have loved this photo. As it is, I like it pretty well. Mostly what I like is how it captures an image I don't often associate with January, how it shows a beauty I don't usually think to appreciate.

The other night Drew and I were lying around on the couch getting ready to watch some documentary or something and he looked at me and said out-of-the-blue, "I know you don't like January, but it's really not so bad." And he was right: the January we were having that day — the last few days, actually — really isn't so bad. I think I'm still getting used to spending my winters in New York rather than Chicago where, frankly, I felt pretty dysfunctional the first three months of the year. And I think I'm still adjusting to being in a happy, stable relationship. And being married is definitely something that's still settling in.

I didn't think it would be like this, to tell you the truth — that I'd be so conscious of how my life has changed, but I am. I wasn't expecting marriage to feel better than just living together. But it is — at least in our case. It's so nice, really, it makes even January not so bad.

Happy New Year!

I have to admit, I was a little bit sad about wishing 2009 farewell last night. It was such a good year for me — I got engaged and married, went on some great trips, made some solid new friendships, had good times with old friends, saw just about everyone I love and care about, and even my work life was much better than it's been in a long time, something I feel doubly blessed for in such a crappy economy. But never one to waste an excuse to drink and make merry, I had a few friends over at our place to ring in 2010, a year I'm sure has plenty of good stuff up its sleeve as well.

It was a blue moon new year, so Drew and I sort of went with that theme in our attire, although, truthfully, neither of us realized we were dressing in theme until after we decided what to wear. Drew got his tuxedo jacket a couple months ago, you might remember, and I finally settled on my blue number Wednesday after trying on, like, a 117 other dresses. This was the only one that didn't make me want to burst in tears when I saw myself in it.

Today is a rest day after going-going-going for the last two weeks and then hosting guests til 5 this morning. And I just ate a cheeseburger and a bunch of leftover Christmas chocolate, so I guess it's a rest day from my resolution to eat better, too. Eh, that's what tomorrow is for! Also, I still need to think about what my other resolutions should be. In the meantime, what are yours this year?

Walkin' In A Winter Wonderland

After 22 hours in transit, including one cab ride, a train, a monorail, one plane, a shuttle, another train, then another train, and then a van, Drew and I finally made it to my parents' house in Germany. It's cold here, and snowy — much how it was when we left New York. Side note: On Saturday night during the blizzard in NYC, Drew and I bundled up and went to a holiday party at our friends' place in Prospect Heights. It was a great time, made moreso, I think by the weather. You don't traipse across the city in a blizzard and not go home without having a really amazing time. If necessary, you pick up the punch bowl and down its entire contents in a span of sixty seconds — as one guest did — but whatever you do, you make sure you have an awesome time before bundling up and heading back out into the urban winter wilderness again.

One of my favorite moments of the night came at around 1 or 2 AM when we were walking to the subway to catch the Q train back to Manhattan. It was still snowing and these two girls were waiting for us at the end of the block. As we got closer to them, one looked at us and smiled and said, "Snowball fight?" So we had a snowball fight, the four of us, under the street lights late at night in the Brooklyn snow and it was perfect. When one of the girls slipped and fell and didn't yell "shit!" or "damn!", but instead screamed "I'm having so much fun!" I knew exactly how she felt. It was just that kind of night.

Anyway, all that snow made for some awful delays at the airport, which certainly affected us the next evening when we were scheduled to fly to Frankfurt. We ended up sitting at the Newark airport for NINE hours before we finally boarded our very late flight. NINE hours! For a while we hunkered down in the Heiniken Lounge — Newark's finest pub — where Drew nursed a $12 beer or two and I read through a couple trashy magazines. When we got tired of that, we moved to our gate where I discovered how sly Russian women pass the time when they've got a delayed flight.

First, they buy a bottle of vodka from the Duty Free shop — much cheaper than buying a cocktail at the Heineken lounge! Then, they carry it to their gate, spread out over  afew chairs, and wrap their vodka in their winter scarf and cradle it in their hands like so (see the woman in blue):

 

Then, when they think no one is looking, they take a swig:

 

This continues until the bottle is empty and they're good and drunk. Then, they discretely throw away the bottle and put their scarf back on like nothing ever happened.

Voila! Now they are much better able to handle sitting around in a freezing cold airport waiting for a flight that's seven hours delayed. I think I'll remember this for the flight home next weekend...

A Christmas Warning

On Sunday, Drew and I are taking an overnight flight to Germany to spend a week with my family for Christmas. Drew's never been to my parent's home, or to Germany, for that matter, and there are several things I've been warning him about. He's been hesitant about visiting Germany because, you know, a lot of Jewish people were murdered there once, but what he doesn't realize is that there are plenty of other things to concern himself with.

1. First of all, Germans speak German. I went as long as I could without telling him this, but I finally broke down over the weekend and let him in on the well-kept secret. After the initial shock wore off, Drew admitted that he's looking forward to singing "Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto" to all the native Germans. When I told him that "Domo Arigato" was Japanese, not German, he said, "Oh yeah, I meant Wayne Newton's 'Danke Schon.' I'm gonna sing the shit out of that song!"

2. Second, contrary to popular belief, the beer in Germany is not free, nor is it always served by women wearing slutty lederhosen. Drew was not happy to hear that. When I told him that we could probably get my father to buy us a round, Drew asked if he would do so wearing lederhosen and I assured him that that was distinct possibility, though not to expect any cleavage.

3. Third, the guest bedroom we'll be staying in has a see-through beveled glass door. "You know what that means, right?" I asked Drew. "Yes," he replied stoicly, "I won't be able to do my naked jumping jacks every morning when I wake up."

"Well, you can," I replied, "but you'll just have to do them in the bathroom."

4. Fourth, any fun that can be had on the autobahn will be canceled out every time we pass an "Ausfahrt" sign ("Exit" in German) and my dad makes a fart joke for the umpteenth time, complete with sound effects.

5. Fifth, while there are indeed real-live shepherds in the meadow near my parents' house, they do not often wear anything beneath their long robes and have been known to flash unassuming Americans visiting from New York. Wearing Yankee paraphernalia is not advised.

6. Finally, German toilet paper is about as soft as a shell on a dead armdillo. "You know what that means, right?" I asked Drew. "Yes," he said disappointedly, "I will stay away from the sauerkraut."