Nathalie's Notes

Progress Report

Word Count today: 596

Lucy Baby: Life as a chocolate dog - An Autobiography total: 1,013

She scooped me up and snuggled me like nobody has so far. So, I licked her face. She seemed surprised but did not lick me back. She smiled even though she was crying. Human beings are very, very confusing, in case you did not know we animals think this. I snuggled into her as long as I could but I didn’t think it would be in good form if I peed on her so I started wiggling to let her know I had to go. She put me down and ushered me into the corner saying it was so I could have my privacy. Finally! Somebody gets me.

Love, Lucy Baby

Word Count today: 417

Lucy Baby: Life as a chocolate dog - An Autobiography total: 417

A book is born ... An idea I've been simmering for awhile now was crystallized for me at about 3 a.m. It's a few children's books with adult appeal - the Lucy Baby series.

The first book is Lucy Baby: Life as a chocolate dog - An Autobiography

This one is an autobiography written in the voice of a chocolate Labrador puppy modeled after none other than my mischievous little sprite. It explores the puppy's abandonment issues and her journey learning to trust her New People.

The second book is Love, Lucy Baby

This one is written as a series of letters to her cousins in Eastern Washington and Maryland. It explores the issues of jealousy about a new baby in the family and her injury and subsequent recovery.

I'm stoked about this project. I am writing them for Sam and Matt. I figure if they enjoy the books, odds are good I can get them published. But, if not, we'll still have fun with them.

An excerpt:

They will tell you dogs can’t write, yet you are reading this book by me, a puppy. They will also tell you I am a chocolate dog but you can not eat me. So, you see, life is quite confusing. Together, maybe, we can sort things out. My name is Lucy Baby and this is my story.

Back to "bird by bird"

Word Count today: 561

Secrets We Keep total: 1,696

I don't know why I keep thinking I'm going to get to my desk one day and find my novel all finished. It's a surprise to me every time I realize how much work I have left to do. I long for the satisfaction of completion I used to have as a reporter. Assignment. Deadline. Done. Repeat.

So, I'm going to take a little bit of that and apply it to my method. My method. I've been looking for the Book that will tell me how to take my book from this utterly shitty draft to an actual finished manuscript I can give to the next person that asks: "When can I read it?"

It turns out that I have to come up with my own method. No more wasting time wandering around the library looking for my Magic Fix. I realized this while I was talking to someone at a party, a published someone, and I had so many questions I wanted to ask him until it suddenly occurred to me that I already had the one answer I really needed. I have to write it first. Finish it. Then I can get go on to the details of editing and publication.

So, following the advice of Anne Lamott in "bird by bird," I'm back to working on my "Shitty First Draft." Even though it's a third draft. I started a new file and word count. This is the one. And I simply have to get it done because Ralph is coming back to me and I am eager to get back to work on that story.

My daily goal: 300 words. Daily is almost comical but surely Sam can spare me for the amount of time it takes me to cobble together a few paragraphs.

"Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." - E.L. Doctorow

A white and wonderful Christmas

We didn't think putting Sam in a box under the tree was a good idea so we just plunked him down amongst the gifts to make the point that he is indeed the best gift of all.

For the first time since 1937 (save a brief dusting in 1990) Oregon had a White Christmas. A good scrapbooking mom would've gotten a picture of her son's first snowy Christmas. I did, however, take him out and whirl him around in the snow. He thought it was wet and preferred to go back inside to eat. Not quite ready for snow angels. With my tendency to overdress him, I suspect he'll be the kid so bundled up he won't be able to get his arm back far enough to throw a snowball. Then again by the time he's really hucking snowballs he'll be dressing himself, right?

Here's a little Christmas collage. (I finally learned how to make them after admiring them on Rose's blog for so long. What took me forever to figure out is that you can see the whole thing better if you double click on it and then on the bottom right of the screen you can adjust the size.) For the first time ever we got to stay home and have a relaxing Christmas with just us. It was pretty awesome. In the afternoon, we were joined by George, Amy, Ella, Diane, Rob, Brian and Stacy. We ate a delicious dinner that everyone contributed to: carrot curry soup, prime rib, mashed potatoes, yammy casserole, chard, green beans with hazelnuts, and probably something else I'm forgetting. And then there was cake. Delicious chocolate cake. And cookies. Lots of cookies.

Also - we got to play games!!! It was great to spend time relaxing and enjoying each other's company. We missed our families but will catch up soon.

The funny thing about it snowing on Christmas was the cheesy movie I stopped to get for Matt on that hellish shopping day was White Christmas. And it was so, so cheesy. Loved it.

All Shook Up

I can't help but wonder what it is he is thinking when this little face looks back at me.

Sam's Elvis Impression: 

Lessons learned while losing it

Let's talk shopping etiquette for a moment. Things that merely annoyed me before the baby now completely flip me out. It may or may not have anything to do with how tired I am. Here are a few lessons from our shopping adventure yesterday:

1) Lane Poaching is Not Okay

Imagine for a moment that you are in line at, oh, say Target. And for the sake of this story imagine that it is a very, very long line. Because it is just a few days before Christmas and we are, evidently a nation of procrastinators that show our love with overflowing shopping carts that we charge to our Visas and Mastercards, because, you know, love is priceless. Sorry, I seem to have segued to a separate tirade.

Okay. So there you stand. In line. The long one. Oh, and you have a baby. Yes, a baby who likes to shop as little as you do. He (because in this story he happens to be boy) is attached to you via Baby Bjorn. You are both hot and cranky. Let's just say. Now you are in line behind the Coupon Lady and the I Have Exact Change Lady. Waiting. Waiting. The baby starts fussing and gagging on his zumlik (bink) because he doesn't want it. He wants to scream at the I Have A Gift card Somewhere In My Enormous Messy Purse Lady. Suddenly God sends a miracle in the form of Target employee back from break. He looks directly at you and says "I can help you over here, Mam." And you forgive him for calling you 'Mam' because he has just opened up a brand new lane for you. But before you can get there, four people behind you scuttle over to the new lane without making eye contact with you because they know it's wrong. Target Guy looks sadly at you and hopes you understand he's not going to make a scene about this.

2) Find your own damn parking spot. Or, Parking Lot Stalkers Suck

So. Congratulations. You've made it safely out into the parking lot. The baby stopped fussing enough for you to get through the Starbucks line. Because that one was worth waiting for. Now, you inch your way to your car. Well, in this story, let's say you are driving a ridiculously large truck. It feels like playing Frogger on your Atari as you dodge drivers who are paying more attention to their cellphones than the woman and child they nearly mowed down. But whatever. You see the truck. You're almost safe. And then you spot him. The Parking Lot Stalker. You wave at him to roll down his window. You tell him you'll be awhile, you have to get the baby out of this thing and into his car seat, etc. He smiles tightly and rolls his window back up. And waits anyway. You are tempted to go veeery slowly but the cars behind him are starting to back up. Two cars. Three cars. Four cars. Horns honking. You still have to get the baby's other arm wrangled into the seat. And make sure his singing butterfly is attached because you don't drive anywhere without that thing at the ready. More honking. You hear a "Hey! Lady!" And what you want to do is scream "YOU assholes are the reason the world thinks Americans are lazy!" Oh, did I mention you happened to get a prime parking spot? The one closest to the front? Through simple luck, not by stalking. God does not smile upon parking lot stalkers. Instead you are in a full sweat and you avoid eye contact as you rush to get the cart put away. Mr. Parking Lot Stalker wants this spot so badly, he doesn't leave you room to get out. Finally you loose it. Rolling down the window, you yell "Unless you want Monster Truck Rally, you better back up!" And you must look just crazy enough to do it because everyone backs up a little. If your baby is old enough, he might learn some new words as you rant and rave all the way through Sherwood.

3) Nix the Last Stop for safety's sake.

We have this little rule in the Oravetz family that you don't ever say it's the last of something. It started when my dad and I were going to take "one last run" on the ski slope and ended up with my dad's ribs getting broken by some jerk skier who plowed into him. So, from then on, you just skip the last of something. Please note this should apply to the "last" stop on your list as well. This is why: your husband calls and asks if you could just swing by Fred Meyer and pick up a Christmas movie for you to watch together. You are torn, right? I mean, hello!!! Are you nuts? You finally have the baby asleep in his car seat and are so close to home. And you really hate crowds. Like it's a problem. You've talked to your therapist about it even. But on the other hand, how cool that he wants to watch an old school Christmas movie. A new little tradition. Fine. So you negotiate another crowded parking lot, the aggressive Salvation army lady and the crowded store. You tool around electronics until you find the movie he requested. Then you get a little gift for the baby and you're back in line. Waiting. Waiting. You're almost there. Suddenly there's a conference with a manager and sales crew. You wait exchanging curious glances with the people in line behind and beside you. The clerk warns you to get your car seat off the floor for a second, "this could be a little crazy." Huh? Next thing you know there is an announcement over the intercom that they just got a Wii in and it'll be the last one they have. What the hell is a Wii? But you seem to be the only one wondering. Everyone else is rushing the counter and your baby starts crying.

P.S. Your headache does go away just as the credits roll on the movie. I mean, it would if this had been your day.   

The Swing Stays

The highlight of Sam's two month appointment - besides confirming he is a happy, healthy baby - was the doctor's declaration that the swing can stay! The doctor did not think, however, that it was a good idea to start feeding him less to prevent him from reaching the manufacturer's weight limit. I will take this into advisement but make no guarantees.

No, he won't have scoliosis because of it. No, he won't need a rocking chair in his dorm room. And, no, he won't have some kind of inner ear problem as a result of my selfish need to sleep. But thank you for your concern.

My favorite part of the appointment, besides rejoicing over the Official Swing Declaration, was how happy Sam was. Poor kid didn't know what was coming. Shots. 5 of them. He cried. I cried. And then all was well again.

Sam did his Mighty Mouse impression on the table. When I said as much, the doctor said, "Oh, yeah. The fencing reflex." Turns out Sam's impression isn't as special as I thought it was. But seeing the doctor do it cracked him up.

In other news: he weighed in at 13 pounds 2.5 ounces and is 24 inches long. And smart. So, so smart. Okay, the doctor didn't actually say that but I'm pretty sure he was thinking it.

Signs & The Little Things

It's pretty safe to say that I am delighted by the little things in life. I got to do one of my favorite things this weekend: browse Third Street Books. Just wander around and pick things up, read the back cover, put them down, pick up something else ... bliss. I saw these cool chore magnets and this My Mommy's Tote interactive book*. While I resisted the urge to buy them for Sam, I got excited about the day he's old enough to have his own chore chart. When I bubbled all this to Matt he shook his head slowly. Poor, poor Sam. I reminded him that being so pleased with life's little details makes me very, very easy to shop for.

This also thrilled me: I got an email from a friend with these little horoscope blurbs. Okay, honestly, it was one of those emails where if you don't forward it to 84,000 people immediately your roof might cave in but I skipped past that and realized how cool it is that I automatically looked for three signs.

Sam: LIBRA - The Harmonizer
Nice to everyone they meet.  Can't make up their mind.  Have own unique appeal.   Creative,  energetic,  and very social.  Hates to be alone.  Peaceful, generous.  Very loving and beautiful.  Flirtatious.  Give in too easily.  Procrastinators.   Very gullible. (It's a little hard to say right now, but it's all true so far except "hates to be alone" and "gives in too easily." Sam seems to love and need his time alone, like both of his parents. And giving in too easily, ha!)

Me: PISCES - The Dreamer
Generous,  kind, and thoughtful.  Very creative and imaginative.  May become secretive and vague.   Sensitive.   like details.  Dreamy and unrealistic. Sympathetic and loving.  Kind.  Unselfish.  Good kisser.  Beautiful.


Matt: CAPRICORN - The Go-Getter
Patient  and  wise.   Practical and  rigid.   Ambitious.  Tends to be good-looking.   Humorous and funny.  Can be a bit shy and reserved.  Often pessimists.  Capricorns tend to act before they think and can be unfriendly at times. Hold grudges.  Like competition.  Get what they want. (Yes on most, but he's not a pessimist and disagree that he acts before thinking. I think he's friendly but would say that at times he could seem unfriendly when he's in a serious mood. Or trying to get to the end of a chapter).

* Reminder: Shop local for all the obvious reasons.

If you want to look up your own, here they are. I have no idea where this came from so I can't give credit. Sorry Internet Police.

AQUARIUS - The Sweetheart
Optimistic and honest.  Sweet personality . Very independent.  Inventive and intelligent.  Friendly and loyal.  Can seem unemotional.  Can be a bit rebellious.  Very stubborn,  but original and unique.
Attractive on the inside and out.  Eccentric personality.

GEMINI - The Chatterbox
Smart and witty.  Outgoing,  very chatty.  Lively,  energetic.  Adaptable
but needs to express themselves.  Argumentative and outspoken.  Likes change.  Versatile.   Busy, sometimes nervous and  tense.  Gossips. May seem superficial or inconsistent,  But is only changeable.  Beautiful physically and mentally.


LEO - The Boss
Very organized.  Need order in their lives - like being in control.
Like boundaries.  Tend to take over everything.  Bossy.  Like to help
others.  Social and outgoing.  Extroverted.  Generous, warm-hearted.
Sensitive.  Creative energy.  Full of themselves.  Loving.  Doing the
right thing is important to Leos.  Attractive.


CANCER - The Protector
Moody, emotional.  May be shy.  Very loving and caring.  Pretty/handsome. Excellent partners for life.  Protective.  Inventive and imaginative. Cautious.  Touchy-feely kind of person.  Needs love from others.  Easily hurt, but sympathetic.


PISCES - The Dreamer
Generous,  kind, and thoughtful.  Very creative and imaginative.  May become secretive and vague.   Sensitive.   like details.  Dreamy and unrealistic. Sympathetic and loving.  Kind.  Unselfish.  Good kisser.  Beautiful.


CAPRICORN - The Go-Getter
Patient  and  wise.   Practical and  rigid.   Ambitious.  Tends to be good-looking.   Humorous and funny.  Can be a bit shy and reserved.  Often pessimists.  Capricorns tend to act before they think and can be unfriendly at times. Hold grudges.  Like competition.  Get what they want.


TAURUS - The Enduring One
Charming but aggressive.  Can come off as boring, but they are not.
Hard workers.   Warm-hearted.  Strong, has endurance.  Solid beings who are stable and secure in their ways.   Not looking for shortcuts.  Take pride in their beauty.  Patient and reliable.  Make great friends and give good advice.   Loving and kind.   Loves hard - passionate.   Express themselves emotionally.   Prone to ferocious temper-tantrums.  Determined.   Indulge themselves often.   Very generous.


SAGITTARIUS - The Happy-Go-Lucky One
Good-natured optimist.   Doesn't want to grow up (Peter Pan Syndrome).  Indulges self.  Boastful.   Likes luxuries and gambling.  Social and outgoing.  Doesn't like responsibilities.  Often fantasizes.   Impatient.  Fun to be around.   Having lots of friends.   Flirtatious.  Doesn't like rules. Sometimes hypocritical.   Dislikes being confined - tight spaces or even tight clothes.   Doesn't like being doubted.   Beautiful inside and out.

In defense of the Christmas Letter

I love checking my mail. Always have. But I especially love it this time of year because this is when I'm most likely to get actual mail. Not bills and crap from companies I've never heard of but real, juicy mail with the handwriting of people I adore on the envelope. And if I'm really lucky? Pictures!

When I found out I was pregnant I made a list of things I was most excited about. Getting to write an annual Christmas letter made the top 10. Sure I could've done one before I had a kiddo but Sam gives me more writing material.

I know the Christmas letter gets mocked but I - for one - love, love, love them. I practically skip to the post office (well, now I just kind of limp on in with the sciatica and the baby bjorn) in anticipation of getting a card with news from friends and pictures of loved ones.

Thinking of writing your own? Consider a few of my tips on how to write a good Christmas Letter:

Unless you're writing to people who've never met you, we know you're not the Cleavers for Christ's sake so cut the crap and tell us what really happened this year. Sure it's natural to want to focus on the highlights but really an all-around banner year? Who are you kidding?

On the flip side letters that list medical maladies don't work either. We don't really want to know about every ache and blister you've had since we rung in the last new year. I'm all for keeping it real, sister - but go ahead and spare us the contents of your medicine cabinet. 

Sharing the year's highlights isn't being braggy. Being braggy is braggy. Don't do it.

We love to hear your good news. However do not, for God's sake, reveal any family secrets (good or bad) in the letter. I was once at a close friend's house admiring her collection of Christmas greetings and was just at a really juicy part from her mother-in-law when my friend leaped in front of me and said, "Wait! I have to tell you something!" Too late. I got the great news of her pregnancy from the card hanging on the wall. They just weren't planning to tell everyone yet. So, I repeat, skip the secrets, especially if they aren't yours to tell!

And remember when I said to keep it real? I didn't mean veiled references to the ways your children have disappointed you. Avoid sentences like: So-and-so still isn't married or So-and-so is still finding themselves. We all know what that's code for.

If that's too much for ya, I suppose a simple Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year will do. And a picture. Pictures are good.

p.s. Before you check your mailbox for this Yuletide opus of ours, you should know it won't be arriving in this year's mail. But it's not that I'm behind or anything. I'm just planning ahead for next year!

And the doctor says ???

I'm about to head out the door with this cute little Pope look-a-like for his 2 month appointment and ugh... shots. I am armed with an organized diaper bag and list of questions for the Doc. I feel it's best to appear like I'm in the running for the Well Adjusted New Mom Award. One of my questions I don't even want to ask but if I don't, Matt will, so it's with bated breath I ask the doctor:

Is it okay for Sam to sleep in the swing for oh, say, as long as possible? And if you say no, could you write me a prescription for some medicinal methamphetamines?

Because Sam slept for SEVEN hours IN A ROW the other night. In the swing. I didn't think it was possible but I loved him just a little bit more when he woke me up LAUGHING at 3 a.m. instead of the usual 11 ... 1 ... 3 ...