Street of Eames

I went to this yesterday, thanks to Melissa giving me her ticket. It was awesome. I mean, just look at this ticket:



I tried to get the angle of the light just right so you could see the quality of the print job. Way cool. I went to six of the seven houses on the tour, and could have seen myself living in more than one. Many of them featured radiant heating in the floors, which I plan on incorporating into a future project at my house. One of them had a turntable in the driveway (!) which we'll never do here because we don't have a driveway to speak of, but it was super-kewl.

The best part about the whole thing? It's a benefit for homeless kids in Portland Public Schools. I can't imagine why I haven't gone before, but I'll be sure to go again. And again.

Election Night Olio

I got so caught up listening to the election coverage that we completely spaced Newton's piano lesson tonight. Oops! Hope we can figure out a time to make it up.

Just after the election was called, around 8 pm here, I heard some ruckus, so I went to the front door to check. I could hear neighbors in at least three different directions out on their front porches, whoopin' and hollerin', and a few car horns tooting. I let out a whoop, too. Wonder when we'll get around to taking down our lawn sign, or taking the magnet off our car?

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I have taken to calling myself a Garbage Nazi. I try not to throw anything away that can be reused or recycled. I really knew it was bad when I was able to organize three Enrichment crafts just from materials I had on hand. So this morning as I was pulling out of the driveway to take Newton to school (and teach music there), I noticed that our next-door neighbor had some block styrofoam balanced on top of his garbage can. I immediately pulled out my phone and called to tell David to snag it and add it to our own basement stash of block styrofoam so it wouldn't go to the landfill. No, I don't have a reuse in mind for the block styrofoam. It's just enough of a pain to recycle (though less than it used to be) that I'll wait until I have a good load of it to do so.

Question: should I tell the neighbor I took it? Should I send an offer of recycling assistance on the neighborhood e-mail list? Or should I just keep my mouth shut and not turn completely into a recycling evangelist?

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Quite suddenly, the Wizard started being able to match pitch, a little, sort of. I had been a little concerned that it wasn't able to carry a tune or match my pitch when I was singing with him, even after I experimented with different ranges. Then, last week, he just started spontaneously matching me, between 10 and 30% of the time. Then he would say, at the end of each song, "Mommy! You sing just like me!" Very cute. I hope it does end up being spontaneous and effortless--I would hate for it to become an issue like it did with my youngest sister (she was a little later to match pitch than some, and we made fun of her, and she stopped singing).

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The Martha Stewart enameled cast iron dutch ovens have been marked down further, at least some of them. The smaller size is now down to 50% off, so keep an eye out for the larger size to do the same.

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For your edification and enjoyment, some recent shots of Cindy Lou:

The Magic of Numbers

No, this isn't about Newton and his math fetish. Just my favorite little factoid that appeared in The Oregonian yesterday:

Population of the state of Alaska: 670,053

Population of Multnomah County: 701,986

Our county chair is Ted Wheeler. He wouldn't make a bad VP candidate, either.

Stumptown Bike Culture

So, I've been thinking about biking in Portland since my previous post on the topic and MWR's sort-of response. I've been paying more attention to whether bicyclists I encounter while driving follow all the rules of the road (like they're supposed to). My impression, based on an admittedly limited sample, is that a clear majority of cyclists here obey the rules of the road, including stopping at stop signs and red lights, and signaling turns. While driving the kids to swimming lessons at the same time each weekday morning last month, I frequently had occasion to stop at a light on a street that also has a well-used bike lane. Nine times out of ten, bicyclists stopped for that light and waited until it turned green before proceeding.

And here's another anecdote: yesterday Mavis rode his bike to report for jury duty. Stopped at a light, another cyclist rode up and engaged him in conversation. The other guy had recently moved to Portland from San Francisco and said he was still getting to understand bike culture here. Like, he said, bicyclists obey the rules of the road. He had recently run a red light while on his bike (as he was in the habit of doing in San Francisco), and gotten yelled at by another bicyclist. As Mavis told it, he wasn't upset about having to change his habits, just anxious to follow local custom.

I recently spotted a new license plate option here:


If it had been available when we bought our car last year, we would certainly have chosen it. I told Mavis if he wanted to switch, I certainly wouldn't object. I've seen "Share the Road" bumper stickers elsewhere, but here folks really seem to be driving the drive, so to speak.

Appropriately Dignified?

So, our mayor-elect (and current city commissioner) was quoted in the paper today, in an article about making Portland even more bike-friendly than it already is. Yes, our fair city has been named most bike-friendly by multiple publications, and with high gas prices the number of bike rider is rapidly increasing. However, recently there have been a number of driver-biker conflicts reported in the news: drunk biker attacks biking-advocate driver after he chides him for blowing through a stop sign; drunk driver tries to run down biker who chided him for speeding on neighborhood streets (biker jumped on the hood and hung on for dear life for several blocks until the driver slowed enough for him to jump off safely); bike messenger and car passenger (a bike shop employee) get into a tussle (including one of them whacking the other on the head with a bike lock!) after the passenger chided the biker for not wearing a helmet.

Anyway, here's Sam's quote:

"Sorry, it's trite but true: Share the fricking road, people," he said. "And when it's hot out, understand that everyone is a little irritable."

"Fricking"???

Eco-Living

A while back, I mentioned something about our eco-roof, and Birrd asked for more info. Here it is, finally.

The eco-roof is not on the house, it's on the garage. We live on a very steep street, and our garage is right next to the sidewalk at the downhill side of our lot, dug in so that the back and uphill side are completely buried and the roof's more-or-less flat surface is basically at grade. Though the houseward corner of the garage is quite near the garageward corner of the house, the garage floor is several feet lower than the basement floor, and they connect via a sloping, curving tunnel with a reinforced concrete roof.

The previous roof was that black rubbery/tarry stuff, and though it's hard to know for certain, we are fairly sure that there was a leak at the houseward corner. Certainly there was quite a bit of rot in that area, and consequent sagging. We had done some stopgap repair of that corner when we bought our house eight years ago, but knew we would eventually be replacing the garage roof. We were doing a lot of other exterior projects last spring/summer, including repainting all the house trim and the front of the garage, so it seemed like a good time to undertake the project.

I suppose if we had replaced the garage roof at the time we bought the house, instead of just repairing it, we would have done something different than we ended up doing. However, in the intervening years eco-roofs have been getting increasing amounts of press locally, and I knew there were people who would help me do it and do it right. When I initially talked to Greg Haynes at Ecoroofs Everywhere, a couple of years ago, they were really only working with non-profits or people who wanted to recruit a volunteer force for planting etc. Fortunately, by the time I was ready to undertake my project, Greg was working as a consultant with people who were willing to pay market rates. He hooked me up with a structural engineer who could assess what structural changes needed to made to support the weight of soil and plants and a contractor he had worked with in the past, and the project started just about a year ago.

The contractor dismantled the old roof, beefed up the existing support structure, then created the structural foundation for the eco-roof. They were able to re-use a lot of the existing materials, just took out the rotted sections, and fixed the slope of the roof at that corner to better drain water. The roof now consists of doubled-up 2x10 support beams, a plywood underlayer, a waterproof membrane, a layer of padding (basically like a wool rug pad), a few inches of a soil mix containing a high percentage of pumice, sedums and sempervivums, and a top layer of burlap mesh. The plants will eventually completely grow through and cover the mesh.

I'm pretty happy with the results overall, though I was dismayed to discover that the reconstruction had not resolved the water issues near the tunnel. As it turns out, a bigger problem than any leak that may have existed was the issue of water wicking from the concrete tunnel roof (concrete is porous) into the wood structure. This necessitated, last fall, the removal of the material filling the gap between the concrete and the wood. Right now the crack is covered with roofing felt (detritus left by the metalworkers who put a new copper roof on our bay window) held down by brick pavers, but some time in the next six months we will have to figure out a way to permanently close the gap and still keep water out of the garage structure. If we can succeed in keeping it dry, the eco-roof can last upwards of 30 years. It cost more than a conventional roof would have, but will last longer and will reduce the amount of runoff heading into the river.





Besides the eco-roof, I'm always looking for other, smaller ways to green up my life. It was a big epiphany for me, a while back, when I realized that the three members of the "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" trinity are not co-equals. No, dear readers, it's a hierarchy. Recycling is good, but reusing is better, and reducing is the best of all. So here are my recent small triumphs:

Reduce: I finally figured out that my cotton balls (which I use twice daily to apply toner to my face) were too big. Now I gently pull each one into two pieces and use a half, and it works just great. Yay! I've reduced my consumption by 50%, just like that. Cotton is biodegradable, sure, but the growing and manufacturing process couldn't be much less eco-friendly. So for my next bag I'll be purchasing organic cotton balls.

Reuse: Please tell me I'm not the only one who saves rubber bands and paper bags and ribbons from presents? Anyway, I had a big rubber band collection (8 years of regularly getting them with the mail and newspaper). I sorted them by width and made rubber band balls, then happened to catch my mailman one day, and he was thrilled to take them off my hands. More yay!

Recycle: For the last few years, I've been participating in Plastics Roundups run by the Master Recyclers. They will take just about anything plastic that is not recyclable curbside. The recycler who processes the plastics they collect recently expanded its film processing capability. No, not photographic film, any thin flexible plastic, including plastic bags, cereal and cracker liners, shrink wrap, etc. etc. etc. This is awesome. Even without plastic shopping bags (we mostly use cloth bags, and any plastic shopping bags that come our way end up being used for garbage bags), I've filled a large paper shopping bag three times just since the end of January. Our non-diaper garbage has dwindled to almost nothing. Yay!

Now, don't ask me when I'm switching to cloth diapers. That's still something I agonize over.

What to Do in the Summer When It Rains

And I forgot to blog about a conversation I had in the waiting room at the lab when I went to do my one-hour glucose tolerance test last week.

Chatty Cathy: "So, how far along are you?"

Me: "26 weeks."

CC: "Wow, you're really big for only being that far along."

Me: "Well, it is my third." (What else could I say? Yeah, I'm a fat cow??!!)

CC: "Let me just tell you, if you get the tubal ligation, it really kills."

Me (trying to get back to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; I think that's where I was in my pre-release re-read): "I think I'll be avoiding that."

Mr. CC, chiming in: "So he's going to get the old snip-snip?"

Oh. My. Gosh.

Brush with Fame

An honest-to-goodness famous person (well, to me) showed up in my prenatal yoga class today: Ariel Gore. Her book, The Hip Mama Survival Guide, was a lifeline to me in my first pregnancy. All the stuff out there--books, web, online communities--I was finding about pregnancy and birthing was either sanctimonious or sticky-syrupy-sweet or some freaky passive-aggressive combination of both, and her book was a breath of fresh air. I even participated in the Hip Mama online community for a while (under the username momesq, if there are still archives out there somewhere from 2000-2001), but eventually the militancy of some of the users (you're a bad mama if you immunize your child/shop at the Gap/don't co-sleep/use medicine instead of homeopathy) made me feel like a real fifth wheel (Adriana has written about crunchy parent sanctimony quite eloquently in this post and others).

Anyway, for the next several weeks, I hope (she was in line to pay when I left the studio, and her first class--today--was free) I'll see the famous author on Saturday mornings.

Mmmmm, pastries

So I popped into St. Honoré Boulangerie today, to see if they would have brioches available tomorrow when I need them for my book group brunch (stay tuned for recipes!), and I did happen to notice that they had small sort-of-individual (ie., one person could eat one, but probably wouldn't feel good about themselves afterward) St. Honoré cakes. So, Swizzies, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeeze come visit me, and I will make sure we get one every day.

They probably won't have the brioches by when I need them tomorrow (darn!), but that didn't keep me from buying a pain au chocolat and a mille feuilles for my afternoon snack (I did share the pain au chocolat with Number Two). My question is, Is it ever possible to eat a mille feuilles without the custard gooshing out the sides? Seriously, because that reminded me why I very rarely buy them (usually opting for éclairs, with their more-easily-contained pastry cream).

Portland, Glorious Portland

It's been quite the week here in my hometown. The Food Network named it "Delicious Destination of the Year," and it was featured in the New York Times travel section (thanks to MWR for this link). That article missed some of my favorite spots, but did give a shoutout to one of my fave neighborhood joints (a mere 10 blocks from my house), the Saint Honoré Boulangerie. Way to go, town!

Hmm.

On the route I take to pick up Number One from school every day, periodically (once or twice a month) there is a beggar standing by a stop sign. His sign reads, "I need money for food not drugs." The problem is that everything about his appearance positively SCREAMS "meth-head"--the gaunt frame, the sunken cheeks, the missing teeth. I saw someone pass him a cigarette once, but I have to wonder if he ever gets any cash, ever. The thing is, if what you really want is food, or shelter, or work, there are better and more efficient ways of getting it than begging on a street corner. I suspect that most passing drivers know that, but I suppose that some don't--otherwise why would he keep coming back?

Childbirth Nazis?

So, the Oregonian recently had an article about how Oregon has rates of natural childbirth that are double the national average (about 20% attended by midwives, vs. about 10% nationally, and about 2% in birthing centers vs. about 1% nationally), and that many women here feel judged for their childbirth choices if they are not able to live up to the ideal of a completely natural birth. It probably won't surprise you that I had a pretty strong reaction to this article.

First, I don't think it's very good journalism. Like the "opt out" series of articles from a couple of years ago (about Ivy-League-educated mothers who chose to stay at home with their children), it seems overly colored by the author's own experience. Just as the "opt out" group of women were overwhelmingly white and wealthy, and a tiny minority of all mothers, the women who have angst over their birthing choices are also overwhelmingly white and educated, and urban. The article mentions the national rates of delivery by Caesarian section (up to almost 30% of all deliveries, with almost a 50% increase in the last 10 years), but doesn't reveal the rates in Oregon. Even if it is significantly lower than the national rate, I feel fairly certain that it is still greater than the rate of natural childbirth. The vast majority of birthing women are perfectly happy to go along with whatever their doctor suggests, and generally don't have misgivings about those choices unless something goes wrong.

The author also doesn't look at the underlying statistics. She mentions the increasing national rate of Caesarian sections, but doesn't compare it to the rate in Oregon or in other developed countries (Canada's rates of Caesarian sections and infant mortality are both lower than in the US), nor does she look into the possible reasons for the increase (higher malpractice insurance rates, larger numbers of multiples, women seeking to avoid pain and exercise greater control over the process, I think all play a role), or whether it is a good or bad thing. There are also statistics (somewhere . . . ) about the effects of various childbirth interventions (epidural or other anesthesia, episiotomy, hormonal induction or augmentation of labor, etc.) on fetal and maternal outcomes, but she doesn't mention these at all. It seems she's so concerned about women passing judgment on each other that she's unwilling to entertain the possibility that they might be right.

So, here is where I tell you about my own experience on the matter. Both my boys were born in a hospital, attended by a midwife, and both arrived vaginally, full-term, and healthy. That's about the extent of the similarities. Number One was conceived in the course of regular marital relations, but when it came time to be born, he stubbornly had his face turned to the side (the baby's head has to be turned the right way in the mother's pelvis to be able to come out). So, progress was slow, and, desperate, exhausted and nauseated, I opted for epidural anesthesia. It offered relief from the pain, but lessened the strength and effectiveness of my contractions. So right away, one intervention led to another, as I was put on a Pitocin drip. Progress continued, albeit slowly, and my midwife eventually decided she should break my bag of waters to help things move along (yet another intervention). Of course, his head was still turned sideways, so he couldn't come out in any case. I pushed and pushed and pushed, to very little effect (other than to wear me out), until after 2.5 hours I threw up, he turned, and emerged with his arm wrapped around his neck (as if to give himself a pat on the back).



Good final outcome, but I felt like I had been not so much in control of the process. I resolved right away that for my next child, I would a) get a doula (I thought that with the right kind of support, I could have gone without the epidural, and the resultant other interventions), b) let myself throw up instead of fighting it so hard (since so much progress happened when I did). I later learned about Hypnobirthing®, and resolved to use its techniques in my next labor experience.

So, Number Two was a lot harder to come by. After trying lots of different, lesser interventions, we ended up conceiving him through in vitro fertilization. As his due date approached, I practiced with the Hypnobirthing materials I had borrowed from my sister-in-law. One evening a week before my due date, my water broke as we were moving Number One towards bed. I called my midwife, and she told me to call her back if I decided to go to the hospital. Water broke at 8, contractions started at 10, went to the hospital at 11:30. Called my sister-in-law (veteran of 4 natural childbirths, at the last two of which I served as labor support) to come to the hospital to support me in labor. Walked the halls for a while, sat on a birthing ball with my upper body resting on the bed, listening to the Hypnobirthing relaxation CD for a while (actually falling asleep between contractions once or twice), sat in the Jacuzzi tub for a while, as my contractions grew more intense. At about 4:30, my body started doing a weird pushing thing, completely out of my control. At my sil's suggestion, my midwife came into the bathroom, saw what was happening, and said, "Time to get out!" I got out, made my way to the bed, and Number Two was born at 4:47 after just a few minutes of pushing.



The birth experience with Number Two was better than with Number One, and not just because it was shorter. I felt calmer and more in control of the whole process, and fewer interventions meant a shorter recovery (as well as a more alert baby, who latched on right away, yada yada yada).

So, my own personal experience tells me that natural childbirth is better than childbirth with even relatively few medical interventions. I believe the statistics for maternal and fetal outcomes are also better. Given this, what can I do to encourage women to make this choice without coming across as being judgmental? What can I do to help them have confidence in their ability to do it on their own? How can I convince them that they shouldn't be afraid of the pain (which, after all, can't kill them) or of not being in (conscious) control of what is happening with their bodies? Am I limited to saying, "Try it, you'll like it"?

Why?

Why, if you are an otherwise-normal-seeming, pregnant young mother, would you let your facial hair sprout apparently completely unmolested? Just to see how thick it will get? I'm not a big deforestation practitioner (I'm coming up on my 20-year anniversary of not shaving my legs), but I do believe in occasionally shaving my armpits, regularly grooming my eyebrows, and immediately uprooting the smallest hairs that dare sprout from the moles on my chin. The woman I saw at the library today was sporting a small tuft on each of her chins (clearly visible from six feet away) and they kind of looked like pubes. Ew.