We're still having a taco. Just try to stop us.

13 weeks! I'm officially in my second trimester! We celebrated last night by eating a ton of tacos. This is only slightly different from the other three times we "celebrated" with tacos this week. Not to mention my Saturday afternoon "celebratory" tostada fix at the 'Famous Taco and Burrito King.' 

I've come a to very important conclusion thus far in the pregnancy; even though this is the coolest thing I've ever done, even though it's absolutely awesome to know I'm creating a child, and even though we're both thrilled beyond belief about meeting this kid...I don't much LIKE being pregnant. 

I know, I know. I'm almost afraid to admit this because of the reactions it will inevitably receive. I know it's a gift, a choice, a marvelous chance and it will CHANGE MY LIFE (and again, I've wanted to have kids since I was...oh, twelve), but actually being pregnant is one of those things it was impossible to visualize. So, apparently, I didn't. Maybe this will change immediately once I feel a flutter or get that next cool ultrasound (they are cool), but for now, I'm a little ready to put the nausea, ligament pains, hip and headaches, 'round the clock peeing and heartburn in the timeout chair. And, as everyone keeps telling me, JUST WAIT! Gosh. And the responses I get are invariably of two camps; the Let Me Tell You About My Horrid Experience folks and the Circle Of Life singers. 

Not that I'd wish this away for a million bucks, mind you, just a casual [and sleepy] observation. (Something I WOULD give up for a million dollars- or, let's face it, for free- would be the power of supersonic smelling. Especially on a Western bus that reeks of pee. Double especially if it's a breaky-down bus that can't rev above 5mph.) I'm quite eager to meet Baby Schoeny. Between the two parents, we're quite convinced that the kiddo will possess big eyes, crazy hair and a mile-wide grin. (We're already saving up for orthodontics.) And, given the career paths of the baby's folks, the child will most likely not be shy. Or conservative. (Although, who knows? How do you rebel against two left-wing actors? Become Alex P. Keaton?)

I love Michael J. Fox.

I HAVE managed to get a bit of work done with the infrequent but blessed bursts of energy of late; I've finished and formatted five scenes (in a week!) for the murder mystery, waaay trumping my previous goal of one scene. Per month. (I have been tiiiiiiired.) Formatting is easy enough- I've just been trying to get it into one type of document (usually FinalDraft) from whatever I've been jotting notes on: backs of receipts, triangles of construction paper, fake shorthand on my Blackberry (actual note for a scene: 'Rs sprsd trpz klr.*') I need to learn real shorthand. Or just stop being so darned lazy.

You know what this stormy, mucky, swine-flu-panicky day calls for? Besides a nap and a mask? A taco. The perfect pregnancy food (protein, dairy, carbs, SALT and veggies) and, dare I say, the perfect comfort food. Um, the perfect Mexican comfort food. 

Oh no...

*The shorthand stands for 'Rosie is surprised on the trapeze by the killer.' It's kinda going to be the best play ever.

Big ol' project, hmm?

Well, as some people may know by now on Facebook (I can't believe I just typed that)...my "big project" was the pregnancy that I was trying not to blurt out! (And the hidden nausea, weight gain, etc, etc, [and sadly] etc...)

But yes! P.J. and I are expecting a kiddo in early November! Doesn't that make it sound like we're waiting by the front door, anxiously peering out the foyer curtains? Well, if you disregard the late night rehearsals, endless work weeks and traveltraveltravel, we essentially are.

The initial shock/surprise/blinkblinkblink moment when we discovered the newest Schoeny who was coming to call should have been filmed (not least of all the Mario Kart Wii coping mechanism- P.J.'s exact words whilst his eyes were glued to the game, "I hope you don't take this as anything but excitement for you and the baby and myself, but I maybe need a MINUTE longer to process..." And then he handed me a controller. And I played, too.) And later I fell asleep in a mixture of crazy happiness and sheer exhaustion/nerves/bitsy bit o' terror. It was kind of like the night we got engaged. With nausea.

And it has been slightly (extremely) hard to write plays, blog, clean the house or even play "not-lying- down games" with the kiddos for whom I nanny during these past few months when the "common symptoms" start setting in. Turns out, after the first little bit of excitement sets in, so does an incredible urge to let your head snap to one side while your eyes roll back in your head and your brain takes you from zero to coma in three seconds. Plus, I've been subsiding on Italian ice and tortilla chips. (Honestly- who craves ITALIAN ICE? I hadn't given it a thought since 1989.) 

The advice and bizarre comments have also come pouring in. Two favorites?

"Boy, you guys don't waste any time, do you?" 

This is wrong on so many levels. How do they know we haven't been trying since we met? (We haven't.) Are they actively picturing me in a nightie with a stopwatch? (Please don't.) 

Also- "Enjoy it [reading/sleeping/time with the husband/travel/dinner/theatre/walking around] while you can..." 

Basically, anytime I'm seen doing anything remotely fun or exciting, at least one person per scenario has been known to drop that gem. I have two responses:

a) The major and all-encompassing way I've been enjoying "it" for the past 12 weeks has been to clutch my couch cushions at night hoping to ignore the waves of seasickness and whine to [the tech-rehearsal-bound] P.J. for some Italian ice, only to fall asleep during the second hour of TNT programming. 

b) Have you ever, EVER in your life enjoyed anything that people told you was almost over? It's like the Sunday evening rule. No matter how much fun you're having playing Tetris, as soon as someone tells you to "enjoy it now, Monday morning is coming awfully soon," you lose all hope for having a carefree evening and instead start thinking of your 3rd grade worksheet that you've yet to complete. (Even IF you're gonna be watching a Disney Sunday movie- nope. Ruined.)

That said, I am enjoying the heck out of eating anything and everything my stomach will allow (my system and I have come to an uneasy truce) and reading each week about what the kiddo's doing. This week s/he is hiccupping and clenching and unclenching teenser fists!

Plus, we heard the heartbeat last night- 165! Pretty excitable kid.

Gosh. Who saw that coming?

I need a vacation from my vacation.

I think that should be up there with "I don't do Mondays," "Hang in there," and "I'm with stupid." (Also, as it was recently pointed out to me: phrases on a mug= witty, ironic humor. Phrases on a tee shirt? Not quite so classy.)

Anyhow, as I've recently come back from *Cali '09,* I thought I'd share some highlights. Highlights, mind you, and not full blown tales. I am EXHAUSTED, after all.

Los Angeles- Met Scott Bakula. (Life highlight, I daresay.) He was superbly kind, generous with his time and not at all fazed by crazies (me and the Peej). Check out my Facebook pic. It is glorious. Met Donald Bellisario (Me: Thank you for creating my favorite show! D.B.: Uhh...you're welcome.) Met Deborah Pratt. She HUGGED me after I won first place for the novella competition.

Oh, didn't I mention? I WON FIRST PLACE IN THE NOVELLA COMPETITION! And had my copy signed by my heroes.

Lowlight: Ended up on a Quantum Leap trivia panel and got SCHOOLED by a lady who knew Sam Beckett's (mind you, a fictitious character) social security number. I told P.J. that perhaps I wasn't a SuperFan. He said that maybe it was okay.

Had brunch with Sonal, a rockstar gal that P.J. went to school with and I performed with years ago...she's currently on Scrubs and is one of the sweetest people in L.A. We went to a fabulous outdoor brunchy place and I perhaps ate too much, maybe leading her to believe that I am one of the gluttoniest people in Chicago.

I cannot help this.

After L.A. we took Highway 1 up to Monterey for about six and a half hours; at night that road can get kinda crazy, so that's EXACTLY when we drove it! (Highlight: dozing with the sea breeze against my face. Lowlight: It was at midnight. Also, I was woken by P.J. laughing maniacally, our car hugging the cliff's edge and my husband exclaiming "This is NUTS!")

Ordered pizza at 1am and had it delivered to our hotel (we proceeded to eat breakfast from this amazing pizza for the next two days. It was that good.)

Another highlight: Monterey Bay Aquarium! With otters and rooms of glowy jellies and sting rays that I could touch (and I did!)

Lowlight: Whatever that horrific smell was that came from outside the parking garage. Seriously. Get on that, please.

More highlights: A fabulous dinner, courtesy of my folks...with lobsters! The Jabberwock Inn, the cutest inn EVER, whose proprietors allowed us to explore the grounds like crazies. The drive BACK down Highway 1 to Nepenthe in Big Sur- treetop dining overlooking some pretty angry surf. The wooden stairs Peej and I found, leading down to a wild area of beach right off of Highway.

Lowlight: Um, how am I still in this car? Are we done with the car? Almost? Okay.

San Francisco! Okay, so there was a bit more driving. About three hours. But then it was smooth sailing. Until P.J. lost his sunglasses. But by this point we had dropped off the car, shuttled to the airport, found our way to the BART (kinda like our Metra) to take us downtown...and had been riding the BART for about twenty minutes. Oh HAH! So...we went back. (Highlight: The BART employees were so kind and helpful. Seriously. It was almost embarassing how good to us they were. Lowlight: WE DID NOT FIND THE SUNGLASSES.)

Highlights: Dinner at the oldest Italian restaurant in America. Ferrying to Alcatraz and taking very serious poses in jail cells. Re-enacted scenes from So I Married An Axe Murderer ("...I love Vicki. She's the best!") Fresh crab rolls by the docks. Renting a bike and riding over the Golden Gate Bridge into Sausalito. Dim sum in Chinatown (bean paste sesame buns that I cannot pronounce and it doesn't MATTER!) and excellent Middle Eastern in Haight-Ashbury. (I swear we did more than just eat.)

Lowlights: When P.J. said we'd ditch the car for ease of travel, he meant we'd start WALKING everywhere. Also, tandem bikes are not quaint or charming, regardless of what any musical/Golden Era flick may try to tell you. I spent half the time in fear that I'd fall off the back and the other half nagging P.J. and wondering when he'd PUSH me off. Dirty hippies in Haight-Ashbury. If I really needed to get a fix I'd go back to Hampshire [Rim shot.]

All in all a glorious[ly exhausting] trip. I slept for a goodly bit of the next day upon our return, and P.J...began a two-week tech for his new show "The Long Count" at New Leaf Theatre. As you do. We DID get a day together since being back...Easter was superbly relaxed, with a double feature of Bull Durham and Tell No One- the former being an awesome Costner/Sarandon love fest and the latter being an intense French thriller than caused my nightlight to work overtime. It was also a day of multiple naps and various snacky foods and pastel candies being consumed in place of large "meals." (And no worries- we went to the Easter vigil the night before. What good Catholics.)

And now, it's time for my nap.

(Read- more fifty hour work weeks...and perhaps finishing up one of the three writing projects I have going. Sigh. I got to rest on my laurels for two weeks.)

Kind of the same thing.

It's functional AND good-looking.

Happy late March and belated Saint Patrick's Day! Also, happy early spring-carrythatextrahoodie-sureit'swarmnowbuthaveyoucheckedtheweather-rainbootswouldbebetterthanthosecuteballetflats-goodgodit's30degreesthismorning? Best time of the year. Except summer. And fall.

And now for a little public transit-related public ettiquette- If you are a person who pees on the bus, stop it. You are SO close to actually being out of doors where it would be marginally more acceptable to empty your bladder. Yes? Okay.

Public nose pickers. Even if you are tilting your head so as not to be quite so visible, it's a nose pick. Even if you're using the side of a pinky nail- nose pick. Do not do this.

To the man with your elbows fully extended, drastically cutting into the personal space of the adjoining seat: to you I say cut it out. Excessive girth is acceptable. Excessive elbows are not.

Slightly less offensive but still mention-worthy: the countless individuals whose "neutral" face is, in fact, the scrunched-up, open-mouthed blank gaze of those who have no idea what their face is doing. Anyone with me on this? Gah.

Things that ARE wundy this week: my novella was recently chosen to be in the top ten of the international finalists! The top three will be chosen next week in Los Angeles...where I will also be. (And then Monterey and then San Francisco. Woot!)

Also, my youngest sister Emma is in Chi for the week, getting the grand tour of things I tell people I do all the time but truly only venture out for when people are visiting: brunch at Victory's Banner, thrifting at the VDO, free night at the MCA, watching an Instant Theatre piece of mine at Chi Dramatists (tomorrow night, 8pm!), sundaes at Margie's...and lots of nannying. 

Okay, some of those are done weekly.

And capping off the awesome portion of the week? My recent Village Discount Outlet purchase of a snazzy new mug for twenty cents. (I have such a weakness for their kitsch section, and this one takes the cake. Mmm, cake.) It's a cream colored, squarish, and quite obviously homemade receptacle. What makes it clutch, however, is the clearly hand-drawn scene of a cow, wearing an apron, surrounded by tables and squiggly floor lines. Over her head? The words: ELSIE QUITS HER DAY JOB. 

So great. It's also slightly ironic, as Elsie seems to be very much so still employed. Maybe it's foreshadowing? An inner monologue? Perhaps projection on the part of the creator? (And by that I mean the pottery whiz, not God.)

Photos to follow- prepare to be jealous.