The ubiquitousness of FB...

I guess it is a sign of the times that I often go around thinking in Facebook statuses (stati?). Sometimes one status update just isn't enough, so I thought I'd collect today's bite-sized thoughts, updates and pop-wisdom here:


I cooked lentils today. On purpose.

Teething baby = 3(irritability)+2(grizzliness)+5(sleepless nights)

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3(patience)

Harvesting new potatoes from my very own potato patch! They are so tiny and cute!

I made my first honest-to-goodness autumn soup today that didn't have anything ready-made or from a packet! Cream of pumpkin, carrot and (locally grown!) potato soup, with a touch of smoked curry and garlic. Sounds like a bit of overkill perhaps, but I can tell you it was delicious.

I question the wisdom of putting nuclear power plants in a country prone to seismic activity.

I am faced with the possibility that my son might end up 'petiso' - the doctor said at his 9-month check-up that he had put on plenty of weight but not grown at all in length. I said that it was the third month in a row at 74cm, and the doctor replied: he might just have his father's stature. Noooooooo!

Autumn came suddenly - we went from 32C to 15C in one day.  Goodbye summer, hello fashion!

Autumn's abrupt arrival prompted me to transplant the self-propagated avocado plant into a pot and shift him inside - I now have my very first avocado plant ever! And my first pot plant in my new/old house. Please all collectively wish for my transplanting skills to rival those of a cardiologist and for the little trooper to flourish!

Reading an IKEA catalogue when there is no IKEA within 10,000kms is bittersweet torture.

What did I do before Internet? When the Internet is down I am at a loss - I want to look something up and I have no reference section in my bookcase...

It is more expensive to buy a kilo of bread than a bottle of cheap liquor. WTF?

Yay! My favourite Swedish blog is back up and running - for those of you in Sweden who have not yet read 'Katastrofala Omslag', what have you been doing with your downtime at work? Working?



That's all for today.

Onwards and upwards

Things have been a bit hectic of late, and my lukewarm promise to myself and my four fans to start writing again kind of fell by the wayside, as I kind of feared it might... But the upshot of the last couple of weeks' activity can be summed up in these five words: I have my own house! For what feels like forever I have been a charity case in someone else's house, but now I have a place that I share only with my husband and my son, which I have to say feels GREAT.

So now to decorate my house, Argentina style? Well, as far as that goes it may take a while, as one of the side-effects of housing emancipation is less cashflow for stuff that isn't directly related to survival. Watch this space, though. I have at least hung three (count them, three) pictures on the wall - all from New Zealand; I have hung curtains; I have hung a fabric wall hanging; and I have hung out, in my house, with my two best boys.

I have a few projects in mind, one involves moving Arne into his own room. As of today he sleeps his naps in his own room, and nights in our room - and so far, so good. We've managed to convince him that his room is a fun place, with toys and books and a coloured string of dragonfly lights on the wall. I plan to paint something on the doors of his wardrobe - maybe a zebra in the grass, all black lines on white background. Then eventually he will move in there for nights as well, but I think it is more his mother that needs to get her A into G to take that step than Arne himself. A) I will miss him and wonder what little snuffly noises he is making in there by himself, and B) (or should that be G?) I will have to get up and go into another room when he wakes up - and he always wakes up at least a couple of times. If he's not teething he's practising new motor skills in his sleep... Hmmm.

Anyway, that's all for today. It's movie night in my lounge, on my sofa.

Last time I wrote I was a different person, and my world had not yet changed...

I am only nine months older than I was when I last wrote - not even a year, which is no time at all in the course of a life (but aeons ago in blog terms, I know) - and yet everything has changed. Even the things which have not changed and never will, are indescribably different now, because I have a son.

I am still coming to terms with the greater picture, because so far I can only absorb it in small pieces, day by day. I look at my wee boy and think about how he will sleep tonight (and therefore how I will sleep tonight), then I am suddenly hit by the thought that Arne will one day drive a car, meet the person he will fall in love with, travel the world, speak three languages. How weird.

I am going to try to resume this blog in the light of my new existence - which is at once a beautiful and possibly a bit sappy journey through the joys of motherhood and a very down-to-earth daily slideshow of little miracles, struggles with vast amounts of laundry, coping with the realisation that much of your life now revolves around poop (especially the when and how much), insecurities about being a bad parent, reassurance that I am not a bad parent, reassurance that everything is just a phase and will eventually pass - all set to the sometimes tough sometimes passionately latino reality of life in Argentina.

I do however reserve the right to fail miserably at keeping this up-to-date. It is a mother's prerogative to not want to do anything else with her spare time than sleep, trawl Facebook and Trade Me, and drink moderately alcoholic beverages with bubbles in, not necessarily in that order. I am also failing just a little at keeping a diary of Arne's milestones (I hate you handy mums who keep scrapbooks and write journal entries every day. You make us underachievers look bad), keeping up with when and how I should be implementing new phases in his life, and simple things like remembering to brush my teeth.

It's for you mum, it's the universe. It says you should stop procrastinating and do something useful with your spare time.

That reminds me, I have to go do that thing with the thing.

Six months later...

Wow, is it really six months since I wrote anything here...? I have had, over the months, a few jabs in the virtual ribs from people who would like to read more, which under normal circumstances would have polished my ego to a high shine and encouraged me to write more often - but these have been 'interesting times', as the Chinese curse goes.

I shall therefore sum up the last six months in one paragraph, not necessarily in chronological order though I will try, and with free poetic license to make things sound more dramatic than they actually were:

Christmas came and went, obviously without leaving any lasting impression because I can't remember it now; I worked in  medical clinic; then I got a new job online, working from home - which I thought was great until I found out my boss is an immature, arrogant little man with delusions of grandeur and no people skills; my belly grew (I look back at those photos from November and marvel); the kitten grew until she didn't fit into Aquilito's mouth any more and she started to hit back; we had a freezing spell (well, freezing for summer) followed by a heatwave (high 30s every day for two weeks); I learned more than I ever wanted to know about franchising and search engine optimization for my online job; Joel struggled in vain to find any job worth doing for weeks and months on end, with all of the inclement woes unemployment entails; I started to despair that we would ever have our own place; I had an ultrasound and cried when I saw my baby's little face and hands; we spent three wonderful weeks in New Zealand catching up with friends and family and attending my little (ok, not so little any more) sister's wedding; Aquilito was given away by my mother-in-law while we were away; my belly grew some more; Joel turned 30; I threatened to quit my job because my boss really is insufferable, but didn't because it's really pretty convenient to work from home, and Joel didn't have a job, and we are about to have a baby, and I want my own house sometime soon, please; Miriam and Martin came to visit, and we tried to show them some of the nicer bits of this part of the country (famed for being boring), crossed over into Chile because we could, and just generally hung out; Joel got a good job finally(!), loves it and sees a future in it (shame it is in this town!); Miriam and Martin go to Iguazu and have to admit that it is awesome, even if it is a few days away by bus, and this reminds me again of how crappy this town is; we went to the mountains and looked at cool rock formations and waterfalls and I think I may have seen a condor; 25 of May was 200 years since Argentina declared they wanted to become independent from Spain - Buenos Aires put on the party of the century (make that bicentenary), Zapala did something rather limp and disappointing apart from the Gauchos and free hot chocolate which were super, and Neuquen cancelled their parade because it was spitting a little; it snows in May for the first time in many, many years - between 40cm and 50cm in one day, which then turns to slush the next day, and ankle-breaking-frozen-mud-slush-scary-falling-icicles with just enough white to look pretty where no one has walked the day after - which would be today. Phew.

So with the snow all turned into mud slushies outside, what I wouldn't give for a pair of gumboots! Can't believe I just said that... Bonny will be sad because she likes snow, mad little dog. She bounds around like a little brindle rubber ball, and only when she is ridiculously wet and freezing her little tubby butt off does she want to get under a roof, preferably in front of the heater. She has taken to following us into town and waiting outside the shop/bank/hospital/swimming pool and then walking us home again. She is very cute, but quite frustrating, because if you take too long wherever you are she heads off in search of more interesting happenings, and you are likely to run into her again at the bus station hanging with the bad dogs. Hmm.

I had my last ultrasound yesterday, having reached 37 weeks - technically full term. Everything looks good, all relevant organs in place, already weighing in at 3160 grams with three weeks to go (aaahhh! No more growing please, stay little and streamlined...) and head down, in position. We specifically said we didn't want to know the sex, and not to show us anything that might give it away - so the scan was focussed on kidneys and spinal column, and apparently everything looks good. I am large and in charge (well, not quite as in charge as I would like to be, or we would both be earning at least twice as much as we are, and living in our own house), but I feel pretty good - I have been lucky enough to have a very smooth pregnancy. Just the last couple of weeks have been getting a bit uncomfortable - my lungs are all squished up, my ribs hurt from something else squishing them, my belly is heavy enough to squash me if I lie on my back... But physically I know this will all be over in a couple of weeks - what is less comforting is the uncertainty of what comes after. I am finding it almost impossible to think beyond the birth. I feel more than a little unprepared, and this baby could arrive any time now... I have a cot but no car seat, lots of clothes but not enough fleecy blankets, an extra room I can use (to try to spread our little family out over more than just our bedroom) but no furniture to make the room useful, lots of things to organise but no time to do so in... I will work for another week all going to plan, but I have reduced my hours to five per day, to try and get some more rest - hah! Sleep, everyone is telling me how little I will get soon enough and how I should really get more now - but it is very hard to get comfortable so I don't sleep well at night, and at siesta I feel like I always have things to do, like today I have to write this blog...

 But now it is the weekend (yay!) and maybe I will have time to rest a little more. We might be going to Neuquen tomorrow to visit Joel's dad and the puppies - there are more puppies! But we will not be taking one this time, much as we would like to. They are totally different to the last litter, like little fat bears! Aquilito and his brothers and sisters were all leggy and tawny, and these ones are roly poly smushy little fatties, black with tan points. They are adorable as all puppies are, and I shall try to take photos for the cooing over.

Well, I shall now leave you with a few photos as counterpoints to my words, and although not much has been said I think you will agree that there are quite enough words anyway.

Best wishes to all!

Of bean and table-top mesas

These updates have become a bit of a rarity these days, although with my tendency to write small novels each time perhaps you're all grateful rather than sad? Maybe you're still digesting the last one. Well, clear your palate with a bit of mental sorbet (pear and mint is supposed to be a good combination, so think really hard about juicy pears and minty freshness), because here comes the next in the series.

As many of you already know, Joel and I are expecting an addition to our family of the baby variety! I clarify that it will be a human baby (in as far as both its parents are), because what with our track history of adopting baby animals you could be forgiven for thinking that it might be another furry quadrupedal orphan. We have in fact just acquired a little black kitten, sex unknown, who we found in a carpark... It was all sad and crying and lost and wee and fluffy and so now it lives at our house. The dogs LOVE it. They think it smells just divine. Bonny just likes to sniff it, but Aquilito likes to fit the whole kitten in his mouth at once. He doesn't bite down, and is just playing, but the poor little cat comes out drenched in dog slobber, and protests vociferously. Benjamin has named it Pelusa, which means 'fluff', like the weird balls of fluffy dusty kind of stuff that accumulate on wooden or tiled floors, in corners and under beds; or the fluffy pollen that flies about in spring. I have been expressly forbidden to hold or touch or pat or be anywhere near the cat, because of the risk of toxoplasmosis (which can cause a miscarriage), but it is so little and cute, and if I don't feed it who will? A friend who is a vet said it is unlikely that such a small kitten would have toxoplasmosis as it is contracted by eating raw meat, like dead rats, mice, pigeons etc, and such a wee kitten is unlikely to have come into contact with contaminated beasties. I hope not, because what's the point of having a kitten you can't play with? I am definitely the only cat person here, so who else is going to show the poor thing some love? But no, I get told off.

I also got told off the other day for going rock climbing and risking my life and the life of my unborn bean. (I know, very unorthodox and not very dignified to call the baby a bean, but lets face it, that's about the size and shape it is right now. I have promised solemnly to give it a more dignified and gender-appropriate name when it is born, but for now it is the bean.) Joel and I went with his good friend Ivan and his girlfriend Paola to a nearby mesa in the desert, the same place we went the summer before last when we were here. The excursion involves a hike through the spiny, prickly, thorny, unfriendly (and did I mention spiky?) scrub that is the vegetation in this part of the world. Luckily there is not enough water or nutrients in the sand for them to grow too close together, and we managed to push through with just a few scratches. Next you come to a narrow pass, which is exactly like something you would see in an old western movie. The walls of the pass are high and rocky, and the path you have to walk takes a few twists and turns, so you can't see the the exits when you are in the middle. There is only one entrance and one exit, and you can just see the indians blocking them, and appearing from behind the scrub up high on the rocky slopes, to rain down arrows on the hapless pilgrims. The walls of this cut are particularly interesting though, because the strata are all turned on their side, and some of the layers are pure fossil. Millions and millions of little dead sea-beasties. Joel says that while it is plain as day that the area was once under water, scientists are finding it hard to say when and how come - it apparently doesn't add up in the Pangea theory that this particular area was under sea. Who knows, all I know is that with the quantity of fossils scattered around in the sand, and cemented in the rock, there is no doubt whatosever that it was once sea-bed.

Once we had come out of the little canyon, hale and hearty and not scalped by indians (Joel looks native, they probably thought we were neighbours) the land starts sloping up towards the vertical walls of the mesa. First the slope is gradual, then rather more extreme, and all the while I am thinking that the reason there is a slope here in the first place is that rocks and sand are falling down off the mesa. And by standing on these fallen rocks we are just encouraging them to do what they have a natural inclination to do... But we got up (and obviously down, or I wouldn't be writing this) without incident, and found ourselves at the narrow and vertical cleft in the rock face that is the only way up to the top. Ivan and Paola had stayed down on the flat after the canyon, collecting fossils, so it was Joel and me and our trusty canine companions. Bonny decided she was tired halfway up the slope and Joel had to keep lifting her up the hard bits - Aquilito climbed up no problem, but later on the way down he froze in terror and I had to carry him. Poor thing, he had his head buried in my shoulder as if saying 'don't look down, don't look down'! We left the dogs tied to a rock on an outcrop below the cleft we were to climb, and to the sound of their whimpers and whines we climbed to the top. The trick is to brace your back on one wall of the cleft and your knees and feet against the other, and using outward pressure to gain traction, shimmy your way up. I made it a bit further than halfway up when, deciding that my life was worth more than my pride, I accepted Joel's hand from above to aid me in the last bit of the climb. It always surprises me how strong he is for such a small person, he had no trouble hoisting me up. The view at the top is worth the effort and the heart-in-mouth, because you can see forever in every direction. The Andes, stretched out along the whole western horizon, the endless desert plains, perforated here and there by the path of a river, and studded with hills and mesas, but mostly flat, flat flat... Buzzards circling up above waiting for us or that little juicy brindled dog to fall and die, and beetles the size of your thumb trundling about their business in the sand (probably also waiting for us to fall and die, what do I know about their eating habits?).

The wind up top was pretty strong though, and the flat top is completely exposed, so as there was a real risk that I could be blown off the hill, we made our way down. Down is so much easier than up, and to the ecstatic yelps of our canine chorus we made our way back to the outcrop and down to the flat again. Aquilito would have jumped for joy, but he had hobbled himself quite effectively with his leash and was trussed like a pig on his side. Possibly he was tying himself firmly to the rock after taking a look over the edge, so as not to fall. Perhaps he is not as dumb as I thought? I otherwise think he was starved for oxygen in the womb, because he is a bit of a doofus. Well, seven puppies does make for a crowded womb, I guess. One of them was bound to miss out on some vital nutrients... On the walk back to the car we saw a couple of drovers on horseback rounding up their cattle and goats for the evening, and the sky was starting to turn pretty colours as we headed home - all in all a really lovely afternoon. Well worth the telling-off I got when we got home and Graciela found out I had exposed the bean to mortal danger. I think the bean would have enjoyed it though, had it been conscious, and will one day be proud to say it climbed big rocks when it was just a bean. It will be a hybrid super-baby anyway, everyone knows about hybrid vigour, right?

I am now embarking on the adventure that is the health care system in Argentina. Here in Zapala the best medical care is found at the hospital (as opposed to private clinics), where it also happens to be free. Everything I need, including medication, is covered by something called Plan Natal - even though I am foreign. For a country with issues, they sure do get a lot right. The problem is that you have to wait a goodly while in queues. Specifically, you have to queue on Thursdays to make an appointment to see a doctor the following week, and it pays to be there early, because otherwise all of the times for the doctor you want to see might be gone. And then you either have to see someone else, or wait another week. To take a blood test I have to be at the hospital at 6.30 on Tuseday morning! I blanched, stated outright that no, this was not going to happen and she grumbled that as long as I was there before 8am they would take the blood. I have an ultrasound on Thursday, to see that everything is progressing normally and how many weeks the bean is at (I'm not too sure, somewhere around six or seven is my guess), and then back to see a gynaecologist on Friday with all of the results for interpretation. I am a little paranoid though, because the doctor gave my belly a bit of a prod at my first check-up, and it hurt a bit. He frowned, got out a little machine that make clicky noises and passed it over my belly and frowned some more. Then he said we'll have to wait for the ultrasound because neither his prodding nor his clicky machine had told him anything. And now I'm all worried that the bean is ectopic or has too many limbs or something worse. But I'm sure the bean is fine, and it is just first time nerves.

 

Well, that's all for this November instalment. If you count the random five photos that's two in one month! Not a feat I have managed often... Well, til next time, y'all!

Five seemingly unrelated pictures...

Puppyfest: little dog number four

Yeah, I know. The situation is getting slightly ridiculous. Every time we go for a walk it seems that we come home with another dog. There is a disconcerting trend in this city to dump unwanted female puppies,

and we just happen to always walk by the little crying and shivering bundle of fur and uncoordinated legs when it is at its most pitiful. I don't know whether I should harden my heart or stop going for walks... This could be the long sought-after proof that exercise is dangerous. But I really can't just ignore them! They are too cute and helpless, and now we have four dogs.

Bonny was foundling number one, and she has turned out to be a real pearler of a dog. In contrast to the other two abandonees, she wasn't feeling sorry for herself, she was out exploring when we found her, and it was definitely her choice to come home with us. Since then she has ruled the roost, and at the tender age of five months is now the matron of the house. Negrita ("little blackie") was foundling number two, and causes so much trouble within the ranks that she now lives in seclusion in front of the house, instead of with the other dogs in the

yard. She is a loyal little soul, who follows me to work, and waits for me (no matter how many hours I might stay) and then walks me home. I have decided to dub her Dora The Explorer, as she is intrepid when it comes to following me everywhere, and investigating everything in our path. Then there is Socks, who we found yesterday. She is a cute

wee thing of about two months, entirely black with four white feet (hence the original name). I am trying to find a home for the two little girls, but no one wants females. I am seriously thinking about calling the radio to complain about the irresponsible people who have puppies and then dump them. Speying a female dog is FREE if you go via the council, so there is no excuse for dumping puppies. The only thing stopping me is the need for tact and diplomacy when telling the local populace that they are all idiots and wankers, and my Spanish is more rudimentary than that. I tend to 'thou' people when I should 'you' them, and vice versa. And last but not least there is Aquilito ("little Achilles") - the son of the famous German Shepherd Aquiles, of Neuquen fame - who is the only dog we actually sought out. He cries a lot, and bites people ankles, but we have high hopes for him based on the

greatness of his progenitor. He has such a dopey look on his face though, it is hard to take him seriously. Ah, bless their wee whiskery noses and cute puppy tushies.

I took a break from my animal shelter of a house (all we need is a couple of cats and a goat to be classified a charity...) and spent last Friday in a town called Bariloche, in the neighbouring province of Rio Negro, attending a seminar aimed at teachers of English. The course content was, um, random. I had high hopes that were at times

left wanting, but came away with copious notes that I will surely never read again and a really cute book bag that reads: I will not yell in class, I will not throw things in class, I will not get mad and hit people in class, I will not have a temper tantrum in class, and will always be good because I am the teacher, I am the teacher, I

am the teacher... That, and the wonderful scenery are my best memories of the trip. The city is situated on the shores of a great big lake, surrounded by mountains, and reminiscent of Queenstown, NZ. It is very touristy, and expensive, and famous for adventure sports. The streets are narrow and hilly, the architecture reminds me of resort towns and the skiiing and snowboarding is apparently amazing, though I have to earn a bit more before I can vouch for that personally. I can however vouch for 2 for 1 happy hour at a brewery called Antres, where the beer was very nice and the peanuts were free. Highly recommended.

In other news, I am five days (count 'em, FIVE) away from turning 30, and I am having a crisis. By 30, surely you are meant to have a house, a car and a good job? Money in the bank, holidays in Fiji (or in my case, maybe the Caribbean, what with it being closer and all), and possibly even ankle-biters of the human kind? All I have is dogs. I feel like I have lived my life on the go, and never stopped long enough in any one place to build anything. Joel is the same (well, at least I have the marriage box checked), neither of us have roots anywhere. 30! Irrevocably, irreversibly, undeniably grown-up. Aaarrgh! This is where you all say 'no, no, you don't look a day over 25', and 'life begins at 30!' (paradoxical advice I know, but hey, you're the one giving it, and I am in no position to think rationally anyway). But yeah, having a 30 crisis, in a foreign country far far away from family and friends... *sniff*

Well, going to wake Benjamin up from his nap, or he won't sleep tonight. I have hit upon the perfect way to wake him without tantrums - put his portable DVD player next to his head and press play. After a groggy 'huh, who? what movie?' he is awake and happy as the proverbial Larry. A few minutes later he is amenable to putting clothes on and
doing his homework. Genius.

Y'all come back now, y'hear?