A few days ago, we decided to have shrimp for lunch. I volunteered to peel the shrimp, something I could do while sitting down. I was glad to be able to do something, especially since Martin's been doing everything in the apartment the last 2 months. So I was happily taking off the head and the skin, when I noticed that some of the shrimp seemed to have some sort of dirt in it. Ugh, I thought, but kept on going. Then I came across one with quite a lot of the stuff. So I looked more closely (I didn't have my contacts on), and realized the dirt looked a lot like eggs.
I think a year ago it would have *maybe* bothered me a little bit, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been bothered enough to stop. But being pregnant, I just couldn't do it. So I kept peeling, but I put aside all the ones I found which had eggs in it. I couldn't look at them, the mama shrimp and her little ones. It just made me sad.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Steve Jobs' Stanford Commencement Address
I was reading the blog of another of my brother's friends. One post was about Steve Jobs' Stanford commencement address in 2005. I thought it was very interesting, so here's a link:
http://news-service.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/jobs-061505.html
http://news-service.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/jobs-061505.html
MEEEH-mories #1
Today a good Pinoy friend of my brother is arriving in Germany after spending several years in Chicago. He will be joining his German wife in Munich. This whole affair brings back (one hand holding imaginary microphone) meeeeeemories (was it Barbara Streisand who sang that?) of May 19, 2005, when Martin (also German, more or less) and I (also Pinoy) got onto a Lufthansa plane to go to Stuttgart from Boston. My brother brought us to the airport that day.
I remember the night before. My brother was the only calm person among the three of us. We had been going through all the junk still left in our apartment, stuff we didn't know what to do with anymore. And the next day, on our way out of our building to go to the airport, Martin's bottle of aftershave lotion fell out of our toiletry kit (which I was trying to close while rushing down the stairs), and broke when it hit the floor. There we were, already running late, and we had to stop and clean up broken glass and lotion.
I also remember bits and pieces of the plane ride. We were lucky: on the week we were flying, Lufthansa offered free wireless internet access during the flight, and I could chat a bit with my brother. I remember seeing the snow-capped mountains. I remember thinking I wasn't quite as nervous or excited as I expected. I remember that Martin was more relaxed than I had seen him in weeks. (He had defended his doctoral work a week before, and had handed in the final version of his thesis just 3 days before our flight.)
During the last two years, I also remember ignoring people who said I wouldn't last more than a year in Germany. Well, here I am, almost two years later. It wasn't easy, but hey, I never said I expected it to be. I've survived "Swabian hospitality", office chauvinist pigs, and 8-hour days sitting around twiddling my thumbs (even the 16-hour days at MIT were better than that!). I managed to complain at a store in slightly broken German about an extremely unfriendly employee (Hey that's not at all easy; YOU try getting mad in a foreign language. I really did it too, my brother's my witness!), and spent a bundle trying every decent-looking Asian restaurant we could find, hoping one of them would come close to Roddee or Penang (droooool). We finally found a small Chinese take-out place (a la Roddee) run by a really nice Chinese couple; it's a far cry from Roddee, but it'll do for now.
In two years, Martin and I have gotten married (again), found stable jobs, made a few good friends, and are now expecting the arrival of our little baby in a couple of months. Life's falling into place, and I'm content. Now if only I could find some decent pad kra pao.
I remember the night before. My brother was the only calm person among the three of us. We had been going through all the junk still left in our apartment, stuff we didn't know what to do with anymore. And the next day, on our way out of our building to go to the airport, Martin's bottle of aftershave lotion fell out of our toiletry kit (which I was trying to close while rushing down the stairs), and broke when it hit the floor. There we were, already running late, and we had to stop and clean up broken glass and lotion.
I also remember bits and pieces of the plane ride. We were lucky: on the week we were flying, Lufthansa offered free wireless internet access during the flight, and I could chat a bit with my brother. I remember seeing the snow-capped mountains. I remember thinking I wasn't quite as nervous or excited as I expected. I remember that Martin was more relaxed than I had seen him in weeks. (He had defended his doctoral work a week before, and had handed in the final version of his thesis just 3 days before our flight.)
During the last two years, I also remember ignoring people who said I wouldn't last more than a year in Germany. Well, here I am, almost two years later. It wasn't easy, but hey, I never said I expected it to be. I've survived "Swabian hospitality", office chauvinist pigs, and 8-hour days sitting around twiddling my thumbs (even the 16-hour days at MIT were better than that!). I managed to complain at a store in slightly broken German about an extremely unfriendly employee (Hey that's not at all easy; YOU try getting mad in a foreign language. I really did it too, my brother's my witness!), and spent a bundle trying every decent-looking Asian restaurant we could find, hoping one of them would come close to Roddee or Penang (droooool). We finally found a small Chinese take-out place (a la Roddee) run by a really nice Chinese couple; it's a far cry from Roddee, but it'll do for now.
In two years, Martin and I have gotten married (again), found stable jobs, made a few good friends, and are now expecting the arrival of our little baby in a couple of months. Life's falling into place, and I'm content. Now if only I could find some decent pad kra pao.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Things I recently watched on the tube (YouTube, that is)
Bush impersonation by Frank Calliendo of MAD TV. Cracks me up every time!
The Lord of the Rings: How it should have ended. (Oh, and check out HowItShouldHaveEnded.com too!)
And now the last one. (Hey, I'm stuck in bed, no TV, ya gotta let me get my entertainment somewhere!)
The Lord of the Rings: How it should have ended. (Oh, and check out HowItShouldHaveEnded.com too!)
And now the last one. (Hey, I'm stuck in bed, no TV, ya gotta let me get my entertainment somewhere!)
Brown Bear, Brown Bear ...
No, I'm not referring to the classic children's book.
In December, on one of my last trips to the outside world which lasted longer than 10 minutes, I bought a cross-stitch pattern of a teddy bear with a red bow around its neck. I meant to finish it before the baby is born, and in addition sew the baby's name and date of birth on the bottom. Then I was told to stay on bedrest, and I thought "Great! I can sew the little teddy bear!". Yeah, right.
Fast forward two months later, and "little teddy bear" isn't so little anymore, and I am getting *really* sick of brown. All shades of brown. Light beige, beige, light brown, middle brown, dark brown, and yes, very dark brown.
But I'm not conceding defeat yet.
In December, on one of my last trips to the outside world which lasted longer than 10 minutes, I bought a cross-stitch pattern of a teddy bear with a red bow around its neck. I meant to finish it before the baby is born, and in addition sew the baby's name and date of birth on the bottom. Then I was told to stay on bedrest, and I thought "Great! I can sew the little teddy bear!". Yeah, right.
Fast forward two months later, and "little teddy bear" isn't so little anymore, and I am getting *really* sick of brown. All shades of brown. Light beige, beige, light brown, middle brown, dark brown, and yes, very dark brown.
But I'm not conceding defeat yet.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
All shopped out
Countdown: 55 days to estimated due date (EDD)!
Now that I'm resigned to the fact that I have to stay in bed for the next few weeks, I've resumed preparations for the arrival of our little girl. Today I started looking on the internet for things we still need. Martin plans to take a day off on Friday to pick up the car seat, baby carriage, crib, mattress, and closet we ordered from a baby outlet store. We have a coupon for a 10% discount on a single purchase, so we had gone to the store several times, chose and ordered the larger items (some of which took more than 2 months to be delivered!), and had planned to pay for everything at one time to maximize the discount. We had been putting off all the more minor purchases for when we went back one last time to pick everything up. Of course, we didn't expect that I'd be put on bedrest before we could go back.
This means that Martin will have to go to the store by himself, look for the gazillion tiny things we still need, and choose which brand, material, color, size, etc. to buy. Pacifiers. Burp cloths. Diaper Pail. Nail scissors. If you know my husband at all, then you know why I'm currently thinking "Oh dear. Poor Martin."
Which is why I've been surfing and researching on the internet the entire day, trying to choose things in advance. Pacifiers: silicone, not rubber. Burp cloths and nail scissors we're buying on ebay unless they're cheaper at the store. And so on. I'm all shopped out, and I never even left the apartment, haha!
Now that I'm resigned to the fact that I have to stay in bed for the next few weeks, I've resumed preparations for the arrival of our little girl. Today I started looking on the internet for things we still need. Martin plans to take a day off on Friday to pick up the car seat, baby carriage, crib, mattress, and closet we ordered from a baby outlet store. We have a coupon for a 10% discount on a single purchase, so we had gone to the store several times, chose and ordered the larger items (some of which took more than 2 months to be delivered!), and had planned to pay for everything at one time to maximize the discount. We had been putting off all the more minor purchases for when we went back one last time to pick everything up. Of course, we didn't expect that I'd be put on bedrest before we could go back.
This means that Martin will have to go to the store by himself, look for the gazillion tiny things we still need, and choose which brand, material, color, size, etc. to buy. Pacifiers. Burp cloths. Diaper Pail. Nail scissors. If you know my husband at all, then you know why I'm currently thinking "Oh dear. Poor Martin."
Which is why I've been surfing and researching on the internet the entire day, trying to choose things in advance. Pacifiers: silicone, not rubber. Burp cloths and nail scissors we're buying on ebay unless they're cheaper at the store. And so on. I'm all shopped out, and I never even left the apartment, haha!
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
Tadaaaaah!
I'm recycling my old blog (thanks for the tip, Kaskasero!) because I realized:
- I'd like to post things which have nothing to do with "Baby Grepl"
- in two months the real "Baby Grepl" will have a real name, and I don't want to keep calling her "Baby Grepl"
I originally wanted a title which had the number 3 in it: Baby Grepl makes 3, we'd like to teach her 3 languages, and this is my 3rd continent. But then what do I do when Baby Grepl #2 makes 4?
It probably won't really matter. In a year's time I'll be reading stuff I wrote here, cringe, and want to start over again. Maybe I should just get it out of the way. So here goes ...
Yuck.
Someone hide me!
Ouch.
Eeeeew.
I can't believe I said that!
Someone get her a Thesaurus.
This is just embarrassing.
There. Don't say I didn't warn you.
- I'd like to post things which have nothing to do with "Baby Grepl"
- in two months the real "Baby Grepl" will have a real name, and I don't want to keep calling her "Baby Grepl"
I originally wanted a title which had the number 3 in it: Baby Grepl makes 3, we'd like to teach her 3 languages, and this is my 3rd continent. But then what do I do when Baby Grepl #2 makes 4?
It probably won't really matter. In a year's time I'll be reading stuff I wrote here, cringe, and want to start over again. Maybe I should just get it out of the way. So here goes ...
Yuck.
Someone hide me!
Ouch.
Eeeeew.
I can't believe I said that!
Someone get her a Thesaurus.
This is just embarrassing.
There. Don't say I didn't warn you.
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