I'm alive...sort of.

Let's talk about ginger and crackers. When I first started feeling sick, it was just a little queasiness in the morning. Pete's mom told me to eat Saltines, and it helped immensely with the mild nausea. Then I got worse. As would anyone with more than a few days of wretching violently all day, I looked on the internet for any possible relief. I tried all of the following at least 18,000 times: ginger tea, ginger chews, ginger snaps, mint tea, peppermint candy, saltines, dry toast before getting up, lemon, flat soda/cola, homeopathic remedies (nux vomica), naturopathic remedies (nausea ease), acupuncture, acupressure (seabands), unisom and B6, and finally the prescription meds (reglan, zofran). The only thing that allowed me to eat was the zofran.

So, here's a tip for all of you sympathetic souls out there: when a woman tells you she's got morning sickness and has been feeling rotten for 7 weeks, don't ask her if she's tried ginger or eating crackers! :)

That said, I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am going up to work for a few hours on Thursday, and hoping that I'll survive the smells. I hear the second semester is all sunshine and roses. Can't wait!

Everything grows in Eugene

Those of you who know us well the last couple of years know we have often deflected baby questions with much authority. Since we have moved to Eugene we have come to know one very important law of nature in these parts: EVERYTHING GROWS HERE. Blueberries, weeds, hops, chickens, anti-government sentiment, blackberries, pinot noir, and now... Liz's belly. Yes, folks, the dynamic duo championing for the childless lifestyle of DINKS everywhere are now expecting their first child.

This is close to Pete's reaction at the time


At the end of a wonderful weekend of mountain biking in Bend Memorial Day weekend Liz started feeling ill. A couple of days and a couple hundred dollars worth of pregnancy tests later, the truth stared us in the face. We can do this, right? My once little and always confused cousin Bryan recently welcomed his son Graham into his arms. My great long time friend Conor has done it twice. My good friend Jake has started what's sure to be a Turkey Bowl MVP roster as well. The point is, all these people around me, once my goof-off comrades have managed to produce and raise the smallest, most helpless, and very fragile beings I can imagine. So maybe it's not that hard. Time will tell. I will revisit this idea for many months and years to come.

So for the last 2 months, Liz has stoicly weathered constant waves of nausea and fatigue. "Morning sickness" was most certainly coined by a guy who only saw his wife in the morning before he left for the day. She is starting to feel better, somewhat, in the 13th week. All initial tests and ultrasounds point to a healthy and normally developing hurricane of hormones, currently the size of a lime and weighing about 1 oz.

Some of you may have questions so I'll try to answer what I might expect someone to ask:
1) no, it wasn't exactly planned. But neither was Pete's proposal to Liz and that worked out GREAT!
2) freaked out for about 12 hours but I am unbelievably stoked about it now. I can't wait to hold the little thing in my arms and teach it all about Carney Lansford, tree hugging, cliff notes for Moby Dick, and how to effectively hang your food in a tree while backpacking (no dad, not that way)
3) we don't know yet but will find out at the next ultrasound at 21 weeks. No surprises for us on this one
4) It/he/she will NOT play video games
5) we welcome all and any advice
6) no names picked out yet. Long way to go before that
7) yes, you can come babysit any time you want. This excludes anyone from the Massey clan who will try to brain wash it into being a Giants fan
8) maybe a nurse midwife but not a homebirth
9) yes, Pete has been an awesome husband; fetching all the random pieces of food and drink that Liz can stomach for that window of time. I learned quickly that I cannot cook fish in the 97403 area code for the forseeable future
10) yes, Liz will undoubtably be using some of the same behavior modification techniques she uses on dogs and husbands to keep the little tike in line

Here is a short and confusing video Liz took the other day. Being a vet with mad skills allows you to ultrasound yourself. That explains the East Lane Veterinary title on the screen and the "K9 ABDOMEN LARGE" setting.

To Bill and Jackie: I guess the reasons that a dog is better than a child have reversed.

I will remove my foot from my mouth and go fetch my preggers bride another cup of mint tea.
more soon
Cheers, Pete, Liz, Brina, Phin, Oscar, and the "perfect parasite"

Oregon Country Fair

Eugene seems to be a place full of unique experiences. The Oregon Country Fair, held every July for the last 39 years, is definitely one of those. I had heard about this weekend event from many locals, some of whom would be working there. I decided to get some tickets expecting a throng of pitchouli oil smothered earth muffins dancing around a dusty mosquito filled field, kind of like the Dead show parking lot extravaganzas we used to attend.

I was right, kind of. Liz was not feeling up to attending so I went with my new transplanted friends, Jay and Adrienne as well as my old friend Kim Hove (Mason) and her husband, Aaron. Kim and Aaron had been a handful of times before, which afforded Aaron the opportunity to tell us EVERYTHING we were going to experience before we got there. As you drive up to this huge hay field surrounded by oak and maple trees, volunteers in purple shirts are waving and giving cheerful Hellos! to you; welcoming you to the festivities.

We get inside and are immediately greeted by a band of jump roping pirates on stilts (you can't make this shit up). Naturally the crowds were swelling because who doesn't like a pirate.....on stilts..... jumping rope. The fun continues as we made our way around all the booths and vendors selling hacky sacks, windchimes, fairy wings, etc, etc, etc. And the food was outstanding. Every type of world cuisine is represented. Aaron was a fan of salmon on a stick, which is a more labor intensive version of shrimp on a stick.

The entire fairgrounds don't exist the rest of the year except for the trees and some posts. In the span of two weeks the fair organizers set up tree houses, clear the field, bring in huge pieces of art, and make an entire village that is reminiscent of Tolkien's Shire. We hadn't been there for more than 20 minutes and we started to here whistles, drums, and trumpets coming down the wooded path. A parade of minstrels and dancers made their way musically like a New Orleans style jazz band.

It was amazing how kid-friendly the whole event was. There were little tikes in radio flyer wagons with sunshades being pulled through the meandering paths. There were magicians, face painters, acrobats, puppeteers, jugglers, fire breathing dragons, tiger men, comedians, ballet dancers, fiddlers, fuddlers, puddlers, and muddlers. I embraced my inner child, as I do everyday, and bought some juggling balls intent on learning because I realized that it doesn't count as juggling if its just two. My very patient wife knows how and taught me; all the while being entertained by the lack of hand eye coordination and extreme left handedness.

This guy was named Captain Elvis and he was a real time video game. He would give kids a Nintendo controller and as they pressed the buttons he would jump, jive, duck, and make laser sound effects as if the kid was controlling him. He was fueled by a very full tip jar called the Rocket Ship Fuel tank. Genius!

And I haven't even mentioned the boobs. I will leave this one to Adrienne on her blog about all the painted boobs. Check out http://www.oregongoldbergs.com/ for some refreshing Midwestern insight into the cultural mystery that is the West Coast. All boobs are painted, which, apparently makes it OK to stare. In "normal" culture if a guy gets caught staring at a woman's breasts, his wife either rolls her eyes or slaps him on the arm. Here at the Fair, its encouraged. Clothing is optional but naked is done in a rather tasteful way. The fat old naked guy painted lime green even had the decency to position his fanny pack slung low in front to cover his package. The fanny pack is also necessary because where else do you put your sunscreen, touch up lime green body paint, cash, and car keys. An entertainer and a problem solver.

Music,music, everywhere. There were at least 10 different tree shaded stages playing everything from folk, bluegrass, reggae, classical, acapella, spoken word rants, open mic, and vaudeville. What's vaudeville?, some of you may ask. Good question without a clear answer but something about makeup, sword swallowing, and olde english lyrical ranting. The Mother Hips were playing the next day for those of you from the Bay Area. Kim was enthrawled by the drum circle that was set up around a bunch of hay bales. Gypsies and princesses spun around possessed.

All in all it was a great time. I guess the hot tip is to volunteer to help and then you get to camp overnight and party with the tiger man, painted boobs, and stilted pirates after us, the day tourists are ushered out at 7pm. Anybody reading this is welcome to join us next year. Adrienne is going to make coconut people faces and sell them a booth, Jay is going to open a boob painting booth, and I am going to juggle with the parade.

Peace and individual expression are alive and well in some parts of the country.