A tale of elusive heat

"Simplicity" by suvodeb.

Once upon a time there was woman who woke one morning and couldn't get warm.

She drank two cups of coffee. But she was still cold. She drank a cup of black tea. But she was still cold. Outside snow fell. Inside, her cold fingers tapped on the keyboard, and she shivered thinking of the laps she'd committed to swim at noon.

"How shall I convince myself to stick a toe in the water?" she asked.

Then she remembered a small cafe called the Aroma Club that served hot chocolate spiked with chili. The drink was sinfully thick and surprisingly spicy, with each sip making love to her mouth and leaving a slow burn in her throat. For weeks afterward, she tried to recreate the experience.

She melted an entire Lindt chili chocolate bar in milk. But it was too bland.

She explored the tiny Latino market down the street and left with high hopes that the "genuine Mexican chocolate" made by Ibarra would do the trick. But it was much too sweet.

She became a cooking chemist, combining cinnamon and chili and coriander with cocoa. But it was too spicy.

But the woman wouldn't despair. Instead, she packed her swimsuit, goggles and a promise that when she finished her laps, she'd get in her car, crank up the heat and drive across town to the cafe where, she knew, they got it just right.

Spoilsport

State lawmaker wants to cancel caucuses because of fighting and hurt feelings.

The Reno Gazette-Journal reported Tuesday that Senate Minority Leader Dina Titus plans to sponsor a bill that would cancel future caucuses and reinstate presidential primaries.

"This notion of neighbors getting together with neighbors to talk about politics, that's just not Nevada," Titus said. "What I found in my caucus is that the meeting didn't lead to collaboration, cooperation and a good discussion. It led to hostility."

Jeez! Is Titus a boob or what?

The caucus was an awesome thing. Voter interest was so high that precincts such as mine ran out of ballots and voters had to write in their candidate's name on slips of blank paper. Why would Titus want to squelch such enthusiasm?

And where does she get off saying that Nevadans can't talk politics? Two weeks before the caucus I got together with a group of loosely connected friends to share information on the candidates' positions on key issues like foreign policy, health care and the environment. This was a group consisting of Democrats and Republicans, small business owners and liberal intellectuals, and no, we didn't all agree, and yes, sometimes people sounded kinda uninformed. But we enjoyed each other and learned a little too.

A caucus is hyper-local politics, and in a society as digitized and disconnected as ours, it's refreshing to physically sit in one spot and talk face-to-face. Caucuses dredge up the lost art of political discourse and encourage civility. I'm all for 'em.

To tell Titus to get a clue, email her at dtitus@sen.state.nv.us.

Grassroots politics

After all the hype leading up to Nevada's Democratic caucus, it was kinda a let down. For two hours, I sat on a bleacher in a middle school and cast first one vote and then another for Barak Obama. We cheered and clapped when someone from another political corner defected and joined ours, but there wasn't any raucous debating or even polite persuasion for entertainment. No. Just neighbor meeting neighbor so that next summer we can wave and chat over lawnmowers.

But it's the local connection that makes a caucus so cool. While it's great that a caucus empowers voters and amplifies Nevada's voice at the national level, it's the community that was created Saturday that really mattered. I met people who were interesting and funny and thoughtful, and learned that we shared not just party lines but property lines too.

The newest currency

Ivan Joseph Levy was born Nov. 14, 2007. Labor sputtered and stalled for 3 days, but kicked into high gear about 11:30 p.m. Contractions came quick and strong as Marcel called the midwife and I tried to blow, not push. Ivan's head crowned just after the midwife arrived, and at 12:55 a.m. he slipped into the world. His big sister, Chaja, cut his cord. We blew out our birth candle, and went to bed happy that our third son had finally decided to join us!

Learning who Ivan is and what he is all about has consumed the better part of my life since his arrival. This is what I've discovered so far:

A fourth baby is just as much work as the first. I had convinced myself that after three children, Ivan would be a cakewalk. Ha! The amount of jiggling, shushing and walking he required during the first month and a half was exhausting. The majority of each evening was spent in the bathroom because only the sound of the fan calmed him. Our thanks to "Happiest Baby on the Block" author Dr. Harvey Karp for giving us the tools to help us over this first hump.

My tolerance for vomit and excrement has increased. I can spend the whole day in a shirt that Ivan has spit up on, even going out in public with stains on my shoulder and chest. I can sleep in a bed that smells of sour milk. And I'm embarrassed to admit it, but the other night I climbed into bed stained with baby poop. Too tired to change the sheets, I laid a towel on top and fell asleep.

A dairy-free diet sucks. I've cut out milk and cheese in hopes of reducing Ivan's flaky skin and stuffed nose, and it appears to help. But giving up my hot chocolate and slices of sharp cheddar with apple fills me with self pity. So, what do I do but comfort myself by eating more sweets, and while rolls of fat look adorable on Ivan's thighs, they don't look so great on my own!

But his smiles are worth a million, or at least all the colic, filth and self-deprivation of the past two months.