Wednesday, April 16, 2008
New
Still no baby. And thus, still no excuse for my negligence. Apologies and a cooked goose for everyone!
In the time that has elapsed since last we spoke, not much has happened on the baby-front. She actually didn’t measure bigger at this week’s appointment, which could mean that the largeness prediction could have been a fluke. One can only hope. Of course, the largeness thing would have had the pleasant side effect of possibly meaning that she would make an appearance a little early. So who even knows what to wish for these days. She’s healthy so go on girl! That’s enough for me.
So she’s good. I’m a whiny mess. My feet are still swelling like balloons. Our friend Jason correctly assessed that they look like cabbage patch kid feet. So right! There’s no delineation between calves, ankles, and feet. There are some hideous wrinkles at the bottom of my toes but otherwise, it’s just a mess of swollen. Really terrible.
Also, my stomach and back muscles are barking most of the time. This led to an unfortunate incident where I went to sit on my bed, instead sat on the corner of some harry potter books sitting atop my bed, thus falling over, grabbing my butt in pain, and winding up in a situation not unlike that of an overturned turtle. Matt rushed in after hearing my cry, thinking that I had gone into labor. If only. Rather, I had hurt my butt and lacked the musculature to keep myself from just throwing in the towel. I was also getting changed at the time. there is no such thing as dignity in my life at this juncture.
In other news, last week I watched, in a piecemeal fashion, Little Women, the 1930s version starring Katherine Hepburn. It was the first time I had watched this one. Growing up, I loved the June Allyson one. Mom would try to encourage us to watch the older version, but we just couldn’t make it happen. It was black and white, after all! Then the winona ryder one swooped in and was delightful too. But, older, maturer, and unemployed, I decided to give the 30s one a chance. Not going to lie, not a huge fan. I just don’t really like Katherine Hepburn’s acting. I think that’s a crime to say in most states, but there it is.
Still, the story gets me every time. I think this is a very quintessential girl experience. Matt pointed out to me that it’s such a girl thing. I suppose he’s right. I know all my sisters love it and I think I can confidently say that my mother and her sister’s fall into that category too. I think it’s the sort of idealized version of sisterhood that’s so appealing. Plus, there’s a little humor, a little romance, how can you miss?
But I do have to say, I’m still a little troubled by Jo’s refusal of laurie (oh, sorry. Spoiler alert. But really, who doesn’t know that?). I suppose with age, I’m a little more understanding, but really. They should have been together. I think it really gets my goat because not only do Jo and Laurie not get together, but then he marries stupid old amy. Honestly.
That’s all I have to say on that. That and everything. I’m done. Have a lovely day. And if you’re not anticipating a lovely day, here’s a bit of advice that might help.
Still no baby. And thus, still no excuse for my negligence. Apologies and a cooked goose for everyone!
In the time that has elapsed since last we spoke, not much has happened on the baby-front. She actually didn’t measure bigger at this week’s appointment, which could mean that the largeness prediction could have been a fluke. One can only hope. Of course, the largeness thing would have had the pleasant side effect of possibly meaning that she would make an appearance a little early. So who even knows what to wish for these days. She’s healthy so go on girl! That’s enough for me.
So she’s good. I’m a whiny mess. My feet are still swelling like balloons. Our friend Jason correctly assessed that they look like cabbage patch kid feet. So right! There’s no delineation between calves, ankles, and feet. There are some hideous wrinkles at the bottom of my toes but otherwise, it’s just a mess of swollen. Really terrible.
Also, my stomach and back muscles are barking most of the time. This led to an unfortunate incident where I went to sit on my bed, instead sat on the corner of some harry potter books sitting atop my bed, thus falling over, grabbing my butt in pain, and winding up in a situation not unlike that of an overturned turtle. Matt rushed in after hearing my cry, thinking that I had gone into labor. If only. Rather, I had hurt my butt and lacked the musculature to keep myself from just throwing in the towel. I was also getting changed at the time. there is no such thing as dignity in my life at this juncture.
In other news, last week I watched, in a piecemeal fashion, Little Women, the 1930s version starring Katherine Hepburn. It was the first time I had watched this one. Growing up, I loved the June Allyson one. Mom would try to encourage us to watch the older version, but we just couldn’t make it happen. It was black and white, after all! Then the winona ryder one swooped in and was delightful too. But, older, maturer, and unemployed, I decided to give the 30s one a chance. Not going to lie, not a huge fan. I just don’t really like Katherine Hepburn’s acting. I think that’s a crime to say in most states, but there it is.
Still, the story gets me every time. I think this is a very quintessential girl experience. Matt pointed out to me that it’s such a girl thing. I suppose he’s right. I know all my sisters love it and I think I can confidently say that my mother and her sister’s fall into that category too. I think it’s the sort of idealized version of sisterhood that’s so appealing. Plus, there’s a little humor, a little romance, how can you miss?
But I do have to say, I’m still a little troubled by Jo’s refusal of laurie (oh, sorry. Spoiler alert. But really, who doesn’t know that?). I suppose with age, I’m a little more understanding, but really. They should have been together. I think it really gets my goat because not only do Jo and Laurie not get together, but then he marries stupid old amy. Honestly.
That’s all I have to say on that. That and everything. I’m done. Have a lovely day. And if you’re not anticipating a lovely day, here’s a bit of advice that might help.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
D@mn Dirty Apes
I woke up yesterday morning to the disturbing news that Charlton Heston died. It’s not that there was anything bizarre about his death. In fact, as I understand it, he was 84. That’s a nice long life. And it’s not that I had a particular affinity for the man. Rather, I knew very little of him. Until this past weekend. Eerily before his death.
Matt suggested that we watch Planet of the Apes. He was pretty jazzed about me seeing it, since I was pretty much a blank slate. I’m game for a classic film experience, so I complied.
The thing about that movie is that it’s kinda terrible. And Mr. H’s brand of shatner-esque over-acting is decidedly abominable. And I voiced as much, adding for good measure that he was a weird looking dude.
And then he died.
You can see how I’m feeling a little bad about how that all went down.
That said, file under “things that don’t make me feel bad” this little tidbit: I’m a winner! I believe I have mentioned before that I try, very much, to win at every turn. If a receipt says that I could win $5000 for calling and responding to a survey, I almost always do it. So, when Entertainment Weekly acknowledged my faithful readership and invited me to be a part of a survey group, I complied. Not too long ago, I was filling in a survey about ads in a recent issue and at the end they gave you the option to choose your prize, should you win. I mentioned this particular survey to matt because one of the prize options was Season 1 of Flight of the Conchords. Since we watched it on netflix, matt and I have been coveting ownership of said television show but, alas, found ourselves to be too light of wallet to enjoy such indulgences.
SO imaging my pleasure when, on Friday evening, I looked in my email box to find out that I was, in fact, a wiener, and would be soon enjoying my own personal copy of Flight of the Conchords. Wee! It was especially fun, because matt was at least as excited as I was. The one worrying point is that the email mentioned that they would be sending it to the address they had on file, my old one. I emailed back a corrected address but haven’t heard back. That’s got me a little concerned. Still, our mail should still be forwarding so, fingers crossed, we should have that bit of New Zealand hilarity before too long.
I hope.
So I’m now to the point in the pregnancy where I go to the doctors every week. It’d be alright except…well, these are not the cute little appointment which I had been enjoying recently where they measured my stomach, listened to baby’s heartbeat and let me go home. They are, unfortunately, significantly more involved. Anyways, at this week’s installment, my doctor wanted me to get an ultrasound, ostensibly for the purpose of figuring out baby girl’s positioning. Well, I was pumped. I hadn’t gotten to see her since the five month gender defining ultrasound. I didn’t get pictures or anything, but I got to see her sweet little fact for a moment and that was quite enjoyable.
The ultrasound technician was mostly doing measuring business and told me that peanut was head down, which is good. She left it to my doctor to expound on the other. Which is that I’m having an enormous baby.
Maybe enormous is overstating it, but she’s estimated to be 7 pounds and 3 ounces. And I have four more weeks until my due date. Holy cow. To put this in perspective, there are plenty of babies carried to term who way 7 pounds and 3 ounces and are merely considered a little small. My baby is that weight now. Holy cow. We got a chubster. (which, incidentally, delights papa bear, who’s a sucker for a pudgy baby).
This information, coupled with the fact that I apparently have a slightly narrow pelvic structure (who knew? Mom always told me that I had child bearing hips), means that delivery could be tricky. Not dangerous or anything, just slightly more complicated. The upshot is that, should natural labor not happen by 39 weeks, some consideration will be given to induce. This isn’t ideal, but for the selfish mom, there are some positives to that outcome. For one, you’re not totally caught off guard by the events and, I’m not going to lie, I wouldn’t mind the baby coming a little early rather than later. Still, good mom prevails, and I know the best case scenario is for little bambina to come on her own and arrive in a non-surgical fashion.
Anyways, all of this to say, I left the doctor’s a little deflated yesterday. Just the knowledge that I am carrying a pretty much full-sized baby made me exhausted. That said, I does explain why, when the little one kicks me, it is with enough force to about send me flying across the room. I’ve got an Amazonian baby living in pretty tight quarters. I guess I’d be annoyed too.
And that’s the news, folks.
Sorry about the subtitles, but this segment really delighted me. I hope that when he gets moved to California next year he won’t have to start having only stars on his show…because stuff like this is dynamite.
I woke up yesterday morning to the disturbing news that Charlton Heston died. It’s not that there was anything bizarre about his death. In fact, as I understand it, he was 84. That’s a nice long life. And it’s not that I had a particular affinity for the man. Rather, I knew very little of him. Until this past weekend. Eerily before his death.
Matt suggested that we watch Planet of the Apes. He was pretty jazzed about me seeing it, since I was pretty much a blank slate. I’m game for a classic film experience, so I complied.
The thing about that movie is that it’s kinda terrible. And Mr. H’s brand of shatner-esque over-acting is decidedly abominable. And I voiced as much, adding for good measure that he was a weird looking dude.
And then he died.
You can see how I’m feeling a little bad about how that all went down.
That said, file under “things that don’t make me feel bad” this little tidbit: I’m a winner! I believe I have mentioned before that I try, very much, to win at every turn. If a receipt says that I could win $5000 for calling and responding to a survey, I almost always do it. So, when Entertainment Weekly acknowledged my faithful readership and invited me to be a part of a survey group, I complied. Not too long ago, I was filling in a survey about ads in a recent issue and at the end they gave you the option to choose your prize, should you win. I mentioned this particular survey to matt because one of the prize options was Season 1 of Flight of the Conchords. Since we watched it on netflix, matt and I have been coveting ownership of said television show but, alas, found ourselves to be too light of wallet to enjoy such indulgences.
SO imaging my pleasure when, on Friday evening, I looked in my email box to find out that I was, in fact, a wiener, and would be soon enjoying my own personal copy of Flight of the Conchords. Wee! It was especially fun, because matt was at least as excited as I was. The one worrying point is that the email mentioned that they would be sending it to the address they had on file, my old one. I emailed back a corrected address but haven’t heard back. That’s got me a little concerned. Still, our mail should still be forwarding so, fingers crossed, we should have that bit of New Zealand hilarity before too long.
I hope.
So I’m now to the point in the pregnancy where I go to the doctors every week. It’d be alright except…well, these are not the cute little appointment which I had been enjoying recently where they measured my stomach, listened to baby’s heartbeat and let me go home. They are, unfortunately, significantly more involved. Anyways, at this week’s installment, my doctor wanted me to get an ultrasound, ostensibly for the purpose of figuring out baby girl’s positioning. Well, I was pumped. I hadn’t gotten to see her since the five month gender defining ultrasound. I didn’t get pictures or anything, but I got to see her sweet little fact for a moment and that was quite enjoyable.
The ultrasound technician was mostly doing measuring business and told me that peanut was head down, which is good. She left it to my doctor to expound on the other. Which is that I’m having an enormous baby.
Maybe enormous is overstating it, but she’s estimated to be 7 pounds and 3 ounces. And I have four more weeks until my due date. Holy cow. To put this in perspective, there are plenty of babies carried to term who way 7 pounds and 3 ounces and are merely considered a little small. My baby is that weight now. Holy cow. We got a chubster. (which, incidentally, delights papa bear, who’s a sucker for a pudgy baby).
This information, coupled with the fact that I apparently have a slightly narrow pelvic structure (who knew? Mom always told me that I had child bearing hips), means that delivery could be tricky. Not dangerous or anything, just slightly more complicated. The upshot is that, should natural labor not happen by 39 weeks, some consideration will be given to induce. This isn’t ideal, but for the selfish mom, there are some positives to that outcome. For one, you’re not totally caught off guard by the events and, I’m not going to lie, I wouldn’t mind the baby coming a little early rather than later. Still, good mom prevails, and I know the best case scenario is for little bambina to come on her own and arrive in a non-surgical fashion.
Anyways, all of this to say, I left the doctor’s a little deflated yesterday. Just the knowledge that I am carrying a pretty much full-sized baby made me exhausted. That said, I does explain why, when the little one kicks me, it is with enough force to about send me flying across the room. I’ve got an Amazonian baby living in pretty tight quarters. I guess I’d be annoyed too.
And that’s the news, folks.
Sorry about the subtitles, but this segment really delighted me. I hope that when he gets moved to California next year he won’t have to start having only stars on his show…because stuff like this is dynamite.
Monday, March 31, 2008
By popular demand
I say popular demand. I lie. I had one individual reader (new reader! Hey friend!) tell me they missed reading the blog and I felt bad. But, if I’m honest, I was feeling kinda bad anyways. Casual readers might have thought that I had gone ahead and had that baby. Alas, no. I’m larger and getting larger and the baby is stationed firmly in utero. As she should be. I’m whining like a champ. My feet are still meatloaf-y. Everything is mostly status quo.
The initial reason for the drop off was a slightly traumatizing event in the life of matt and i. Nothing hugely serious, but kinda disheartening, so I was feeling low for awhile and used it as an excuse to not write a blog. Then, the fact that I hadn’t written one in awhile became a good enough reason not to write. “oh, it’s been two weeks; why not make it three?” But I’m back now. And I will try to be faithful.
That said, I have a few early morning activities for the next few days, so I may immediately fall back into negligence. It happens.
So, as I stated, I’m large. My belly button is getting very close to the turkey timer pop. It’s not there yet, but it’s very shallow, very nearly flush with the rest of my swollen abdomen. I think my pregnant lady waddle is becoming ever more pronounced. I’m pretty much wearing exclusively my sneakers so loose I can barely tie the laces. Oh, and one of the worst things? I noticed because there were (very unfortunately) pictures taken of me this weekend at the baby shower (more on that later), I’m sitting big. I mean, it’s been months since I could cross my legs (putting on socks and shoes is a MAJOR production) but now I can’t even daintily sit with my ankles together. I sit like a linebacker. And since my physique pretty much is that of a large football player, the overall effect is very unsettling. And, while I’ve given up on a defined chin a long time ago, I think I’m getting what Jessica termed “pregnancy nose.” What was a fairly proportionate nose previously seems to be warping and widening. I’m starting to look like a 5-year-old’s artistic interpretation of myself. Sigh.
So we had a baby shower on Saturday. I hope folks had a good time. I don’t really know because I spent the vast majority of the event opening gifts. Nothing makes me quite so uncomfortable in life. I don’t mind it so much with my family at Christmas (after all, I’ve done that 25 times) but opening in front of friends has always been upsetting. Even as a kid, I didn’t like doing it at birthday parties. Weird, I know. But I was very happy that, for the most part, the guests were perfectly content to visit with each other and only check in periodically. Sweet.
So there were many, many presents and they were wonderful and fun and cute as a button. (when matt was helping me unload the car, he admitted he was getting “excited in a girly way” seeing all the things for our little bundle o’ joy). It is pretty great. But, not unlike the wedding, we’re having another case of we have a lot of awesome things and about no money. Like my kitchen, it’s pretty pimped out from the wedding, really nice pots and pans and appliances but we, essentially, live below the poverty line. Likewise, we’ll have a little darling dressed to the nines being carried around by two parents with ash smudges on their face and tattered rags on their backs. (slight exaggeration, but only slight).
In other news, I’ve been listening to abba a lot lately. It primarily happened because I very upsettingly realized that I didn’t know the verses to that song of songs Fernando. So I listened to it about 14 times in a row. I think I’ve got it. And, I’ll be honest, the thought has crossed my mind that my baby might pop from the womb in a white jumpsuit singing Take a Chance on Me or Waterloo, and that would be totally acceptable to me.
Anyways, I think that’s about all I’ll say to you folks today. Baby stepping back into blogging, you know.
Thanks tash, for pointing me towards this video. As always, he makes an excellent and erudite point. I would quote him vertabim.
I say popular demand. I lie. I had one individual reader (new reader! Hey friend!) tell me they missed reading the blog and I felt bad. But, if I’m honest, I was feeling kinda bad anyways. Casual readers might have thought that I had gone ahead and had that baby. Alas, no. I’m larger and getting larger and the baby is stationed firmly in utero. As she should be. I’m whining like a champ. My feet are still meatloaf-y. Everything is mostly status quo.
The initial reason for the drop off was a slightly traumatizing event in the life of matt and i. Nothing hugely serious, but kinda disheartening, so I was feeling low for awhile and used it as an excuse to not write a blog. Then, the fact that I hadn’t written one in awhile became a good enough reason not to write. “oh, it’s been two weeks; why not make it three?” But I’m back now. And I will try to be faithful.
That said, I have a few early morning activities for the next few days, so I may immediately fall back into negligence. It happens.
So, as I stated, I’m large. My belly button is getting very close to the turkey timer pop. It’s not there yet, but it’s very shallow, very nearly flush with the rest of my swollen abdomen. I think my pregnant lady waddle is becoming ever more pronounced. I’m pretty much wearing exclusively my sneakers so loose I can barely tie the laces. Oh, and one of the worst things? I noticed because there were (very unfortunately) pictures taken of me this weekend at the baby shower (more on that later), I’m sitting big. I mean, it’s been months since I could cross my legs (putting on socks and shoes is a MAJOR production) but now I can’t even daintily sit with my ankles together. I sit like a linebacker. And since my physique pretty much is that of a large football player, the overall effect is very unsettling. And, while I’ve given up on a defined chin a long time ago, I think I’m getting what Jessica termed “pregnancy nose.” What was a fairly proportionate nose previously seems to be warping and widening. I’m starting to look like a 5-year-old’s artistic interpretation of myself. Sigh.
So we had a baby shower on Saturday. I hope folks had a good time. I don’t really know because I spent the vast majority of the event opening gifts. Nothing makes me quite so uncomfortable in life. I don’t mind it so much with my family at Christmas (after all, I’ve done that 25 times) but opening in front of friends has always been upsetting. Even as a kid, I didn’t like doing it at birthday parties. Weird, I know. But I was very happy that, for the most part, the guests were perfectly content to visit with each other and only check in periodically. Sweet.
So there were many, many presents and they were wonderful and fun and cute as a button. (when matt was helping me unload the car, he admitted he was getting “excited in a girly way” seeing all the things for our little bundle o’ joy). It is pretty great. But, not unlike the wedding, we’re having another case of we have a lot of awesome things and about no money. Like my kitchen, it’s pretty pimped out from the wedding, really nice pots and pans and appliances but we, essentially, live below the poverty line. Likewise, we’ll have a little darling dressed to the nines being carried around by two parents with ash smudges on their face and tattered rags on their backs. (slight exaggeration, but only slight).
In other news, I’ve been listening to abba a lot lately. It primarily happened because I very upsettingly realized that I didn’t know the verses to that song of songs Fernando. So I listened to it about 14 times in a row. I think I’ve got it. And, I’ll be honest, the thought has crossed my mind that my baby might pop from the womb in a white jumpsuit singing Take a Chance on Me or Waterloo, and that would be totally acceptable to me.
Anyways, I think that’s about all I’ll say to you folks today. Baby stepping back into blogging, you know.
Thanks tash, for pointing me towards this video. As always, he makes an excellent and erudite point. I would quote him vertabim.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Sausage toes
On Conan last night (which we watched this morning), he made some joke about a 3 AM call and how that would be ok for McCain because he’d already be up peeing.
Mr. McCain and I have this in common. I am a 3 AM pee-er. I know many of us visit the facilities in the night but this consistent 3 am thing is what is getting to me. It’s pretty wild. But, mostly, annoying.
Annoying, particularly, because lately after my nightly sojourn, I spend the rest of the night in a state, not ever able to get comfortable and really sleep hard. Annoying, annoying.
Then there is the foot situation. Listen, if you happen to be a single woman, seeking a hursband, I would like to let you in on a little something. One of the most important attributes a man can have is the kindness of heart to rub your feet when they are swollen like over-buoyant rescue rafts and approximately the same length and width. With toes like Vienna sausages and feet whose top side has ½ an inch of squash where there once was naught, the foot-rubbing husband is a blessing from God. Yay, matt!
(it should be noted, while he’s always willing to help a sister out, yesterday he rubbed them after I said, “did you say you wanted to rub my feet?” I’ll be honest; he did not express any such emotion).
Alright, so it’s been a bit since we’ve spoken. The weekend happened. Matt and I went to the parenthood class. It was pretty good stuff, but thanks to mom’s extensive video series she made us watch, it wasn’t much new. The new aspect was all the post-partum stuff. Holy cow. I’m now totally stressed out about the prospect of all the stuff that goes on after a baby is forcefully ejected from my body (ew. That was totally repulsive. But accurate). Ay yi, there’s a lot that will happen. And then add to that that folks are going to want to come and visit…it’s almost too much for my feeble psyche.
Also this weekend matt and I (marginally) participated in the Sidewalk Scramble. Really, I just added some background vocals to a song, helped out with some paperwork, and brought food. Matt provided much more tantalizing contributions, including making sound effects, like punch noises and pancake noises, and dressing in a tunic, stripping to his underpants, and sitting in a bathtub while a group of six mod dancers frolicked about him.
It’s going to be a fairly interesting film. Our buddy sam was the mastermind and my big brother chris contributed the characters and backgrounds which were then animated by two other folks. All in all, a meeting of minds. And all I did was bring bagels.
Also, in my absence, I enjoyed a number of netflix films. We watched Across the Univers, which, despite being exceedingly long and kinda absurd, was really enjoyable. It’s essentially a glorified string of very stylized beatles videos. Who’s going to argue with that? I’m all pumped to get the soundtrack.
Last night we finished Deadwood. Pretty bleak, but good. The previous two season sort of ended with pretty uplifting scenes and this one was d-a-r-k. Though, visually and otherwise, I think this last season was significantly darker. But very good. Next up, on Jessica’s recommendation is Dead Like Me…intermingled with a host of other films.
Last night we also, finally, finished the BBC Pride and Prejudice. We watched the first two parts on PBS but then the last part came on the day after we moved and our tivo wasn’t set up. So I requested volume 2 and matt and I tried to figure out where were in the epic story. Mission eventually accomplished and, against his better judgment, matt liked it. I know he did!
That’s mostly it. Oh, the pup came over on Monday and got into an ant bed. I guess it’s the schnauzer in her, but she has an uncanny desire to stick her nose into any bit of soft ground she can…unfortunately, it was an ant bed and she was standing in it, too, for entirely too long before I figured out what was happening. So sad. She clearly was baffled as to what was happening but she wouldn’t really let me help her get the ants off. She eventually got them all off but it was a sad little stretch there.
I’m sucking down an O’Henry’s beverage called a Cinnamon Roll. Now look here, I got a decaf, but in my obviously pregnant state, I feel the eyes of the coffee drinking world boring holes in me every time I enjoy a beverage from there. This one lady in particular, I could feel her nose-looking-down-ness this morning. She was the size of a peanut and in a matching tennis outfit. Her hair was meticulous and she got her coffee in a hurry and burst out the door ahead of this swarthy pregnant woman, only pausing to look disbelievingly at me. Then she got into a small convertible and I was vindicated when I noticed that her vanity plate read “zoomin.” Puhlease. You can go ahead and judge your heart out. I may be fat, I may drink coffee, but I will never have such a lame-A tag on my car.
Fin.
Awhile back I shared laser cats 2. Somehow I had not seen the original…I’ll never have to say that again. And neither will you.
On Conan last night (which we watched this morning), he made some joke about a 3 AM call and how that would be ok for McCain because he’d already be up peeing.
Mr. McCain and I have this in common. I am a 3 AM pee-er. I know many of us visit the facilities in the night but this consistent 3 am thing is what is getting to me. It’s pretty wild. But, mostly, annoying.
Annoying, particularly, because lately after my nightly sojourn, I spend the rest of the night in a state, not ever able to get comfortable and really sleep hard. Annoying, annoying.
Then there is the foot situation. Listen, if you happen to be a single woman, seeking a hursband, I would like to let you in on a little something. One of the most important attributes a man can have is the kindness of heart to rub your feet when they are swollen like over-buoyant rescue rafts and approximately the same length and width. With toes like Vienna sausages and feet whose top side has ½ an inch of squash where there once was naught, the foot-rubbing husband is a blessing from God. Yay, matt!
(it should be noted, while he’s always willing to help a sister out, yesterday he rubbed them after I said, “did you say you wanted to rub my feet?” I’ll be honest; he did not express any such emotion).
Alright, so it’s been a bit since we’ve spoken. The weekend happened. Matt and I went to the parenthood class. It was pretty good stuff, but thanks to mom’s extensive video series she made us watch, it wasn’t much new. The new aspect was all the post-partum stuff. Holy cow. I’m now totally stressed out about the prospect of all the stuff that goes on after a baby is forcefully ejected from my body (ew. That was totally repulsive. But accurate). Ay yi, there’s a lot that will happen. And then add to that that folks are going to want to come and visit…it’s almost too much for my feeble psyche.
Also this weekend matt and I (marginally) participated in the Sidewalk Scramble. Really, I just added some background vocals to a song, helped out with some paperwork, and brought food. Matt provided much more tantalizing contributions, including making sound effects, like punch noises and pancake noises, and dressing in a tunic, stripping to his underpants, and sitting in a bathtub while a group of six mod dancers frolicked about him.
It’s going to be a fairly interesting film. Our buddy sam was the mastermind and my big brother chris contributed the characters and backgrounds which were then animated by two other folks. All in all, a meeting of minds. And all I did was bring bagels.
Also, in my absence, I enjoyed a number of netflix films. We watched Across the Univers, which, despite being exceedingly long and kinda absurd, was really enjoyable. It’s essentially a glorified string of very stylized beatles videos. Who’s going to argue with that? I’m all pumped to get the soundtrack.
Last night we finished Deadwood. Pretty bleak, but good. The previous two season sort of ended with pretty uplifting scenes and this one was d-a-r-k. Though, visually and otherwise, I think this last season was significantly darker. But very good. Next up, on Jessica’s recommendation is Dead Like Me…intermingled with a host of other films.
Last night we also, finally, finished the BBC Pride and Prejudice. We watched the first two parts on PBS but then the last part came on the day after we moved and our tivo wasn’t set up. So I requested volume 2 and matt and I tried to figure out where were in the epic story. Mission eventually accomplished and, against his better judgment, matt liked it. I know he did!
That’s mostly it. Oh, the pup came over on Monday and got into an ant bed. I guess it’s the schnauzer in her, but she has an uncanny desire to stick her nose into any bit of soft ground she can…unfortunately, it was an ant bed and she was standing in it, too, for entirely too long before I figured out what was happening. So sad. She clearly was baffled as to what was happening but she wouldn’t really let me help her get the ants off. She eventually got them all off but it was a sad little stretch there.
I’m sucking down an O’Henry’s beverage called a Cinnamon Roll. Now look here, I got a decaf, but in my obviously pregnant state, I feel the eyes of the coffee drinking world boring holes in me every time I enjoy a beverage from there. This one lady in particular, I could feel her nose-looking-down-ness this morning. She was the size of a peanut and in a matching tennis outfit. Her hair was meticulous and she got her coffee in a hurry and burst out the door ahead of this swarthy pregnant woman, only pausing to look disbelievingly at me. Then she got into a small convertible and I was vindicated when I noticed that her vanity plate read “zoomin.” Puhlease. You can go ahead and judge your heart out. I may be fat, I may drink coffee, but I will never have such a lame-A tag on my car.
Fin.
Awhile back I shared laser cats 2. Somehow I had not seen the original…I’ll never have to say that again. And neither will you.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Blackbirds and barbeque
Oh that’s right. I’m writing a blog. Which can only mean one thing. That I have something interesting to say? What are you, new? Nay, it means that I have work related writing to do today and I’d like to put it off as long as I can.
So, what’s new since I posted that simian representation of myself? I made barbeque yesterday. It was pretty huge. Huge, in that I had never rocked the crock pot bbq and it was pretty stinking good. Huge, also, in the sense that 1 ½ pounds of pork is an awful lot for hubs and myself to dominate. So we had A LOT of food leftover. I tried to pawn it off on both sam and Linda mcd but alas, both were away from their nearby abodes. And, frankly, were probably a little alarmed by an unsolicited offering of pork. So now we have bbq in our freezer. Sigh.
On Tuesday, matt and I enjoyed a lunch out with my big brother chris at what he promised was the “best Chinese food buffet in town.” Right. To say I was skeptical is to make a statement that was under-exagerating my emotions.
Chris directed me towards the alleged greatness. He even went so far as to describe it as “palatial”
(Pause the story for a second: I just looked out my window and there are probably some hundred plus blackbirds who have descended upon in the very small bit of lawn beside the apartment. Very disturbing sight. I’m wondering if it has anything to do with the shortcake that I threw out there this morning. Yikes. Such power I wield. Ok, there was just a mass exodus. Which, needless to say, was very reminiscent of The Birds.)
Right, back to the story. So after chris dropped the work “palatial” like it was hot and then I tried to describe myself thusly, which then led to a discussion to what the word means (admittedly, I didn’t know. I just thought it meant “big” not actually referring to a structure being like a palace), we were there at the New China Buffet. It was taking up the corner of a pretty decrepit looking strip mall and my skepticism was nothing if not encouraged to grow stronger. We walked passed a silly little meditation pond (complete with a leprechaun-sized bridge) and into a non-descript foyer thingy and then…whoa.
Palatial was exactly the correct way to describe this place. The hostess stand and payment station was set in an opulent, two-story space that was rife with gilding, a gazebo, decorative vases, the works. As matt astutely put it, it looked like the set of a Jackie chan movie.
Then there was the food. I believe we counted 9 (nine!) buffets, with selections from china, sure, but also pizza, French fries, casseroles, desserts, and a full ice cream bar. Wow! This place obviously saw a good bit of business as there were so many booths and tables that each row was marked with a letter so you could find your way home. It was epic.
Yes, it was palatial.
Tonight, matt and I have to go to Parenthood classes to appease the powers that be at our hospital. You may think I sound hostile, but the thing is, my momsicle lovingly provided matt and I with some 12 videos aimed at new parents. We, painstakingly, watched them all and after seeing more women give birth than anyone ever should have to, I really don’t want to live through that again. But the thing is, I feel confident that videos of that nature probably figure into these classes pretty heavily. And, frankly, I don’t know if I can abide by this again. It’s traumatizing.
On a much more pleasant note, matt and I have been enjoying very much relaxing to the max when he gets home from work every day. Our routine now, thank you tivo, includes watching the previous nights Conan. Oh, well this wasn’t exactly the one I was looking for, but I like it pretty well.
Oh that’s right. I’m writing a blog. Which can only mean one thing. That I have something interesting to say? What are you, new? Nay, it means that I have work related writing to do today and I’d like to put it off as long as I can.
So, what’s new since I posted that simian representation of myself? I made barbeque yesterday. It was pretty huge. Huge, in that I had never rocked the crock pot bbq and it was pretty stinking good. Huge, also, in the sense that 1 ½ pounds of pork is an awful lot for hubs and myself to dominate. So we had A LOT of food leftover. I tried to pawn it off on both sam and Linda mcd but alas, both were away from their nearby abodes. And, frankly, were probably a little alarmed by an unsolicited offering of pork. So now we have bbq in our freezer. Sigh.
On Tuesday, matt and I enjoyed a lunch out with my big brother chris at what he promised was the “best Chinese food buffet in town.” Right. To say I was skeptical is to make a statement that was under-exagerating my emotions.
Chris directed me towards the alleged greatness. He even went so far as to describe it as “palatial”
(Pause the story for a second: I just looked out my window and there are probably some hundred plus blackbirds who have descended upon in the very small bit of lawn beside the apartment. Very disturbing sight. I’m wondering if it has anything to do with the shortcake that I threw out there this morning. Yikes. Such power I wield. Ok, there was just a mass exodus. Which, needless to say, was very reminiscent of The Birds.)
Right, back to the story. So after chris dropped the work “palatial” like it was hot and then I tried to describe myself thusly, which then led to a discussion to what the word means (admittedly, I didn’t know. I just thought it meant “big” not actually referring to a structure being like a palace), we were there at the New China Buffet. It was taking up the corner of a pretty decrepit looking strip mall and my skepticism was nothing if not encouraged to grow stronger. We walked passed a silly little meditation pond (complete with a leprechaun-sized bridge) and into a non-descript foyer thingy and then…whoa.
Palatial was exactly the correct way to describe this place. The hostess stand and payment station was set in an opulent, two-story space that was rife with gilding, a gazebo, decorative vases, the works. As matt astutely put it, it looked like the set of a Jackie chan movie.
Then there was the food. I believe we counted 9 (nine!) buffets, with selections from china, sure, but also pizza, French fries, casseroles, desserts, and a full ice cream bar. Wow! This place obviously saw a good bit of business as there were so many booths and tables that each row was marked with a letter so you could find your way home. It was epic.
Yes, it was palatial.
Tonight, matt and I have to go to Parenthood classes to appease the powers that be at our hospital. You may think I sound hostile, but the thing is, my momsicle lovingly provided matt and I with some 12 videos aimed at new parents. We, painstakingly, watched them all and after seeing more women give birth than anyone ever should have to, I really don’t want to live through that again. But the thing is, I feel confident that videos of that nature probably figure into these classes pretty heavily. And, frankly, I don’t know if I can abide by this again. It’s traumatizing.
On a much more pleasant note, matt and I have been enjoying very much relaxing to the max when he gets home from work every day. Our routine now, thank you tivo, includes watching the previous nights Conan. Oh, well this wasn’t exactly the one I was looking for, but I like it pretty well.
