We're Home, and Fighting Already

QUICK quick post. We're home; the babies are fine, I'm fine and getting better. I'm still living on a really amazingly low amount of sleep. Andrew gets crankier than me. I think it's mom hormones-- you can survive (most likely for a short amount of time, but still, it's working now) on very little sleep when you have babies.

We got home last night and discovered a number of our perfect purchases are not at all the right thing-- and are going to have to venture shopping a bit today. Thankfully I have Andrew's mom here to help, or it would be bad.

Anyway. I know you all want pictures. I'm going to TRY to post some today; we do have some, but it'll take a bit of work to get them post-able. And I'm fighting with Sean about breastfeeding. Maia works it like a charm. SHE and I have worked out a pretty damn good harmony of breast feeding/ sleep. I do the exact same hting with him, and BOOM! A fight. I've got my system, my "latch" and stuff. But Sean decides he wants to sit at the boob and cuddle, not suck. So he had an "incident" in the hospital where his glucose was low & he had I mean HAD to have some formula. And he has to have a teeny bit every feeding that he doesn't suck. He wants to lie there and be lazy, have the food delivered passively to him.

So right now I'm forcing him to lie down all alone until he sucks. And he's screaming his little head off right now (which he can do for an amazingly long time and NOT wake his sister, as we discovered last night). So I've got to get back to him. No time to post pix.

But wish me luck getting this boy to eat what I want him to eat. It would really be annoying to have one breast baby & one bottle, but if that's what will have to happen, so be it.

Tiny visions of perfection

Each of them have these tiny, beautifully round faces. They are almost like a tiny Kim and a tiny Andrew. Maia is quiet with the occasional sigh. Sean makes small noises almost constantly. We likened him to Billy Crystal in "When Harry Met Sally", when Harry decides to lie in bed and just moan. She frowns occasionally, he grins. They both have Andrew's trademark underbite and little cleft chin. They both have those dark blue eyes all babies have which gazed up at us saying "Who in the world are all of these people??" Sean is only one inch longer than his sister, but is over a pound heavier, making him appear stocky next to his petite sister. He even has a little double chin.

I am in complete awe of their mother. In my eyes, Kim has always been the person who did everything right the first time wihout a single struggle. She looks as though she is complete control, as though she has been a mother for years. However, one senses a bit of humility as she and Maia struggle for the perfect connection so Maia can be fed. Maia finally settled in for her dinner while her brother cooed away in the hospital-issue bassinette, and the rest of us went out for Greek food and a glass of wine to celebrate.

Andrew looks every bit the proud new father, and perhaps a tad overwhelmed. But who wouldn't be. As I sat holding Maia for the better part of an hour, I couldn't help but feel it myself. Any of us who long to bring children into the world are dealt a mighty hand - to protect our children from certain elements in our world while at the same time provide them an experience that is real, to be there to put smiles on their faces but also to teach them that life is not fun and games all of the time. I hope someday that Broccoli and I can receive the same gift as Kim and Andrew...so I drank the water at the birthing center!

So raise your glasses to Sean and Maia - you only live the day of your birth once.

Introducing....

The red carpet was rolled out of Kim's womb this morning. Maia was the first to arrive at 9:06 a.m., weighing in at 6 pounds 4 ounces, followed at 9:09 a.m. by brother Sean, who weighed 7 pounds 6 ounces. According to the happy daddy, mommy and babies are all doing well.

Unfortunately, paparazzi were banned from the main event, but, of course, plan on making an uninvited appearance later today!

Rhinestone

On hearing that they are remaking Charlotte's Web with Julia Roberts as the voice of Charlotte, Andrew & I were talking about movie remakes. What makes it okay to remake a movie? If it was a bad movie, should it be remade? Maybe they could do it better, but most likely, it will be worse. A good movie, IMHO, should not be remade any sooner than 20 years after its first run. That way, it's not fresh in the memory of the movie-going public, who will say "Ah, the first one was so much better." (I'm not exactly sure how this works with TV shows they turn into movies...)

So in the process of this conversation, Andrew mentioned Rhinestone. You remember, the movie with Dolly Parton & Sylvester Stallone? I told Andrew about my Rhinestone experience. (You can guess in which category of "remakable" movies this one falls). After laughing over the story that follows here, he said this was definitely a bloggable moment. I had already been thinking that. So, dear readers, is this lovely late-night entry.

It was in Fort Walton Beach Florida, about 18/19 years old, at the Suds N' Cinema. A nice little resort-town, but not the most remote hick-i-fied place in the world. Some sophisticated folks do live there. This theater had those round tables with the faux leather captain's chairs, and you could order pizza, or nachos, and you could drink beer. Thus, one of my mom's favorite places (as the confirmed fan of beer & nachos that she was/is). Ah, I saw many classic movies there-- Romancing the Stone, The Breakfast Club, Rocky Horror Picture Show. Sigh. Somehow, the song "The Warrior" by Scandal is also attached in my mind to the place-- it must have been playing as we went there once.

I also saw Rhinestone there.

I don't know if it was the beer and nachos talking, but the crowd at Suds N Cinema loved Rhinestone. There was a happy feel-good mood to the crowd during the whole showing but it got better at the end. That's when, at movie's finale, as Dolly & Sly rise victorious from the ashes (I can't remember how it ends, actually... isn't there some kind of competition??) the crowd at Suds N Cinema erupted in spontaneous, standing-ovation applause. (I, being a cynical teen, did not applaud. But I probably wiped a happy tear from one corner of my eye, because, after all, I'm a sensitive gal).

Seriously. A. STANDING. OVATION. For Rhinestone.

It just goes to show you that there is a reason there are 31 Flavors of ice cream. Somewhere there is an entire theater full of people who would say "That, my friend, was a great movie" while remembering the great time they had one night at the local beer & a movie theater.

**************
You knew I couldn't go completely cold-turkey without an update to my personal medical status of the moment. Yes, the big day is a few mere hours away. I don't know if I'll sleep. We napped all day due to Andrew's unfortunate drinking of way too much liquor last night and his resulting hangover today-- and me being knocked up, I can sleep like a cat. Except probably tonight. We'll see. Fortunately, I don't have to be well-rested. Hopefully the doctor is not suffering from fond memories of Rhinestone movie watching to keep him/her awake all night. (No, I don't know exactly which doctor it will be... that's okay with me, as long as they don't pull out a medical textbook).

So I'm leaving you with this non-baby related post till the guest blogger (welcome to Nissa-- be nice to her!) logs in with her news update, most likely sometime late tomorrow.

**************
But seriously.

Rhinestone. Uproarious applause. And it was NOT a sign of impending apocalypse. Ponder that for a moment and I'll see you later this week when I can rise and sit at a computer long enough to give you a shout out. (Stitches, you know?)

Lucky Dog?

Need a topic?

Have you seen this story about the six legged, two-penised dog that was found dumped at a temple in Malaysia?

There's a picture, too. It looks a bit like a Vishnu dog or something. Very intereresting, to say the least. I think it's funny/cool/? that they named him Lucky One (clearly, it was named by men). Discuss amongst yourselves.

That's all I got today, except news updates:

Thanks for all the well-wishes from the last post! I'll try to post again before the big day, but Monday will dawn very, very early (we have to call in at 4:30 am to check our room being ready, and they want us there at 5:30 if it is). If all goes well, we'll have babies by 8:30.

Scones

MMMMM. I love to bake. Even as hugely preggie as I am, and with the carpal tunnel, I like to throw some flour and stuff together for some baked goods. I like to have cookies, or scones, or something, with my decaf lattes. Last week I baked chocolate chip cookies for the women in the non-stress test clinic I have to go to twice a week, as a thank you for their hard work & patience. My doctor heard about them the other day and said "hey, we didn't get any cookies!" So of course, now I have to make my doctor something yummy. Can't have the people who are actually going to deliver the babies feeling slighted.

So this morning, I've made Chocolate Chip Banana Scones to take in to my appointment later. The doctor & his staff will share about 20 scones. This is a great recipe, and if you're a baker, you ought to try it. It does help a whole lot on the coolness factor to get a scone pan, but you don't have to have one. I LOVE my scone pan, and you can use it for cornbread too. It's probably only practical at this price if you make scones or cornbread a lot, but it works great-- with some "flour" Pam, the scones just fall out, in perfect professional looking scones. But you don't have to have one; you can, instead, have natural little triangle shapes.

So off to the doctor's again for my 2 hour preparation for surgery Monday. I took a breastfeeding class yesterday, and am all prepared for that (as much as you ever are before you have actual babies to feed.) I can't believe it's only four more days! I'm very happy to have a deadline ahead, too, cause boy am I tired of being this big.

Anyways. That's my day. Hope yours is great too.

I have one thing to say....*

Carpal tunnel syndrome sucks. Major majorly.

It's irritated by my knocked-up-ness. Just holding my gyro today at lunch brought on an attack of numb fingertips and sore hand.

Trying to type or click the mouse on other people's blogs and/or comments? Almost unthinkable right now.

If I don't blog much this week, this is why. I'm trying but it really freaks me out to have my index, middle and other finger (the only one that doesn't have its own name-- you know, the "piggie" who had none.. poor piggie) go numb.

Luckily, friend Nissa told me the things to clue one in to whether the tingling fingers are serious stroke signs (in addition to the fact that my blood pressure is absolutely fabulous, and the doctor is not at all concerned). As long as you can 1. smile 2. raise your hand above your head and 3. ummmmm.. I forget what three was for. So the worries are unjustified proof that I am, in fact, a hypochondriac.

Anyway. I still hate it. A lot. (Take that Mrs. E.)

* Apparently I had more than one thing to say. But now I have that part of the Ru Paul song stuck in my head, so now, I will pass it on to you. Mwah ha hahahahahahaha ha!

p.s. I also hate Braxton-Hicks. Whose idea was it to make me be in labor for several weeks? I tell ya. You just wait till these kids ask to use the car to go to the mall one day. I'm going to tell them all about the weeks of BH that I had to put up with. BH. More like BS. :)

Poppies Poppies Poppies!!!

Remember in Wizard of Oz when the gang falls asleep in the big red field of poppies, just before they get to Oz? And they wake only because Glinda sees the danger and sends a snow storm (which, I guess, kills the poppies, or at least dampens their power over the sleepers?)

There is this burger joint that I LOVE to eat at, called Chester's. They have wonderful burgers, with the perfect glaze of just a teeny bit of burger grease, a slice of real American cheese, all the chilled, crisp toppings like pickles and tomatoes, and poppy seed buns that are lightly buttered and then toasted to a slightly crisp edge. (They also have great onion rings, but that's not the point of the post.)

For a while, now, I've been meaning to look up on the urban legends site whether poppy seeds really do cause you to possibly fail a drug test. Because of Chester's, we regularly eat poppy seeds, and while I never have any drug tests in my line of work (who would test a grad student?) Andrew does. I figured it was an urban myth. It sounds like one, you know? How can it be true that the poppy seeds, a harmless, decorative black thing on top of a bun, (of which I usually try to scrape off most) can cause you to get in trouble for opiates? (Heroin being one of them.)

Well, this morning, I looked it up, finally. And it turns out, it is true that poppy seeds can get you in all kinds of trouble. Whodathunkit? I guess we'll have to request non-poppy seed versions for Andrew from now on. They don't really add any flavor that I can tell, so it's not like they're really necessary to the pleasure of sinking teeth into burger. Apparently some places have adjusted the sensitivity level to the chemical down some in their evaluations, so that's probably why poppy seed consuming muffin and bagel eaters aren't lining our prison halls.

But still. It's like we're all dozing in that field of gorgeous red flowers in front of Oz, not caring about the emerald green spires being so close and our quest at an end. But man, Glinda sending snow? Is that some kind of cocaine reference? I mean, you can watch Pink Floyd's The Wall listening to the soundtrack from Wizard of Oz, apparently, and they apparently match up. So. Watch out for those poppies. Ya buncha druggies with your "bagels" and "muffins" and "hamburger buns". (That's what the kids are callin' it these days)......

Je ne parle pas la Francais.... Y no comprende Espanol tambienGot it?

Is it just me, or when you hear people speaking in another language (round these parts it's usually Spanish) you think, automatically, that they're talking about you? I'm sure they're saying very mundane things: "OOH look, they've got the new Grisholm book" or "Hey, do you want to get a coffee drink and a scone?" But in my head they're saying "¡Mi mirada del dios en esa mujer! ¡Ella es enorme! ¿Ella quizás tragó una ballena?" "My God Look at that woman! She's huge! Did she perhaps swallow a whale?" or even Elle donnerait à Anna Nicole Smith par course pour son argent à vendre la Trim Spa en quelques semaines" "She would give Anna Nicole Smith a run for her money at selling Trim Spa in a few weeks"

Yes. Those are Babel Fish translations. I'm sure they suck; they usually do, especially at idiom. I know a teeny bit of French & Spanish, enough to recognize a word here and there and enough that when I was in Paris (ah, for a whole day!! TOOOO short!) I was able to talk with a French shopkeeper about myself. :) And when I've been in the midst of actually studying either language, I've been able to fix the bad Babel Fish translations. But for tonight, I won't even try to fix them. If you are multi-lingual, it'll just give you a giggle, I'm sure, at how I said those things above. And that, my dearest, would make my evening perfect. (Actually, eating an entire pint of Haagen Daaz Strawberry ice cream made my evening perfect. If a little guilt laden).

But anyway. The nice family of Spanish speakers who held the door open for me most likely were not saying "Wow, what a fatty". But being an ignorant 'Merican, who can say "I have a pencil" in several languages, I am always quite certain it is the worst possible thing. And when I get the now & then phone call wrong number here with someone speaking Spanish, my schoolgirl brain tries desperately to think of the right thing to say. Damn! it scurries "How the hell do you say Wrong Number in Spanish?" So I just end up pronouncing Sorry wrong number in very loud, precise English. And then, seconds later, remembering what I SHOULD have said, and feeling like a big dumb idiot.

Do people in other countries who hear us speaking English think the same? Nah. They can most likely understand more English than we do French or Spanish, and they know we're talking about banal things.

These are the things my brain gets up to when left alone. It's probably better you didn't know this about me but there it is, in writing, and too late to erase, and I've risked my carpal tunnel to type it all and am NOT deleting it.

Alone Again, Naturally

You know, it's Father's Day, and my dad really doesn't get much attention from me. He left when I was about 4, and, frankly, I don't have a bunch of fond memories I could share about him. I don't hold a grudge or anything, but my memories of a great dad are going to have a lot more to do with the man I married than the one who my mom did. This morning, I snuck Andrew his first ever Father's Day card, which he, thinking it was a card for HIS dad (he didn't read it very carefully) tried to sign. Silly thing. After I told him it was for him, he read it, smiled sheepishly, over the joke about being a new dad, and we stuck the card in the pile of things that will someday be known as "the babies' scrapbook".

So this post is, in the tradition of narcissistic blogging, all about me.

So this is the last couple of days that Andrew will be gone until after the babies are born. I had thought that day had passed, but he got a chance to go today till Tuesday night and I said okay.

I married Andrew right out of my mom's house. I never lived the single-girl life, never really heated up "soup for one" as a young woman. Sure, I spent time alone-- my sisters both moved out of home when I was still pretty young, and when you're a child of a single parent, you learn to be a latch key kid. But as an adult, I did not live alone till after Andrew & I were married. When he went "on cruise" in the Navy, which means a minimum of six months away, I was by myself for more than a day or so for the first time in my life. We lived in Washington state, it was usually kind of gray and rainy, and there were many, many days I spent reading a great book, (see link to the left) or playing a silly computer game while eating cookies and drinking hot tea.

I didn't mind it. I still don't mind it. In fact, I kinda like it. There's something innately satisfying to being able to plan out your day with no other person in mind. Bookstore trip? Check. Ice cream purchase? Got it. Maybe takeout from the Italian joint down the street? Hmmm. Probably. Movie on Demand? well, possibly.

But tomorrow will be officially ONE WEEK from when my babies are here, and as mommy, it'll be a long time till I'm completely alone again. When do kids start "sleepovers?" Teen? Pre-teen? So granted, they're not going to be stunning conversationalists for a long time, either, but they'll be here; I'll have to take into account other human beings in my plans for the day. It's an interesting thought.

So now, to Borders, where I'll most likely have at least one person ask me "oh boy, when is your due date?!" Then ice cream (I'm thinking something in the chocolate region). Macaroni Grill is a definite possibility. And I'm looking forward to this. I don't feel too nervous that any "dramatics" will occur as far as the babies are concerned. I'm thinking they're comfortable where they are, and aren't coming any time soon in spite of continued level 4 on a scale of 10 (pain wise) contractions (random, not regular. Lemme tell you guys, you can have these kinds of contractions for weeks. Literally). I keep saying they're going to be forcibly evicted in a week. They've been served notice. Where are they gonna get a lawyer? :)

So that's MY Sunday. Not a bad day. Maybe the calm before the storm.

Where's Robotnik?

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo. . (from Dante's Inferno, & The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock)*

Over at Auf Auf Aleksandr, our friend Robotnik seems to have met with foul play at the hands of a "Federation of the Retarded Miners" who speak mangled cryptic phrases and claim to have slain Robotnik.

Robotnik is dead! Long Live Robotnik!

Hey, as you can see from my long list of archives, I've done this blogging thing a long time. I've had a couple of lulls where I didn't do much writing, and this last couple of weeks has been blah and mostly abpregnancyancy and not so interesting to read or write. But I am in a phase which I'll either get out of or not. But since I'm writing for me, really, and I'm always delighted that other people actually read what I write, it doesn't matter. This is my journal, really. I do really enjoy a conversation, though, and when people comment and I get something going to the tune of more than 10 comments, I feel ridiculously happy. I miss the lively conversations we sometimes have and have recently thought hard about a post that would drag you all into a conversational melee. One has not, as of yet, been forthcoming.

So I popped in to Auf Auf and posted some comments to try to keep the game afoot there. If playing's what ya want, then I can play too. I remember getting into long silly competitions on the message board I used to frequent with a couple of real characters-- and it was fun.

As for me, pregnancy aggravated carpal tunnel syndrome, with numb tingling fingers, has caused me to avoid the computer this week other than these updates and occasionalonal observation about firemen.

As Bloggers, we'll live, or we won't.

So to my friend Robotnik, of the crumudgeon-ly responses, defamation of Albequerque, Oscar the Grouch meets Bukowski meets David Lynch movie-writing script: to turn into a fossil of ourselves would suck, so go for the burn, man. Enjoy your time in the afterlife and come back with a message for us we haven't yet heard.

**********

*Babelfish makes a mess out of it, but here's a good definition of the Canto:

1] The epigraph comes from the Inferno of Dante's Divine
Comedy (XXVII, 61-66). Count Guido da Montefeltro, embodied in a flame, replies
to Dante's question about his identity as one condemned for giving lying advice:
"If I believed that my answer would be to someone who would ever return to
earth, this flame would move no more, but because no one has ever returned alive
from this gulf, if what I hear is true, I can reply with no fear of
infamy."

Firemen

So, when I stopped by the firehouse down the road, to have Capt V check my car seats for safety, what do you suppose the assembled six or so firemen who were clustered around the eat-in breakfast bar type place in the firehouse were watching on TV?

Give up?

MacGuyver. On the Spike "TV for men" network.

I even heard some mocking chuckling when the wiley MacGuyver used a baseball game ticket to stop the bomb from making contact with its trigger & blowing up the building.

It was entirely too damned cute for words.

Also, do you think it's bad for your computer keyboard to drop several curds of fat free cottage cheese down where the "H" and "C" keys are? It is, after all, fat free. Surely it won't do terrible damage to the keyboard's mechakl;j areio.....

Still here, still knocked up....

Friends who read the blog will call me up if they haven't heard from me or if there's no post here, worried that I've succumbed to labor and am having the babies. Nope. I'm just tired. Puffy. Sleeping a whole lot and really not much to say about anything.

I could rant about the Michael Jackson trial. Or about the book deal the Runaway Bride just got. Or even about the furor over Gitmo. But frankly, none of these things matter to me nearly as much as whether I have enough of the new Haagen Daz light ice cream safely stashed in the freezer (I do) or whether it is naptime (nearly) or whether I can still fit into any clothing (some).

So if I don't check in for a day or two, don't worry. There have been instructions given to the guest blogger, Nissa, on how to get in here an post stuff. And Andrew has a list of email addresses for people who will get an email announcing details of the babies. Basically, if you hear nothing, you know nothing's happening. It just seems really lame of me to log in and post this really banal personal stuff all the time when I have very little else to say right now. So when I haven't thought of anything to say, I mostly will just read a few other blogs and go take a nap.

June 27

Will be my babies' birthday, unless they decide on their own to come early. We scheduled my c-section today, though, and it will be Monday June 27. Exciting! I've updated the "ticker" above to reflect that date. It makes the timing of what week of pregnancy I am in wrong, but it's accurate on when they will be here.

Family Photos
I'm scanning old family photos today, including some of my dad when he was a baby, my grandfather, who I never met, and lots of other stuff. It's from a collection of old photos I just "inherited" via my mom & sister, and I'm going to clean them up, stick them on CDs and pass them out to family. It's so neat to see these old fashioned photos, though. I don't think photos are nearly as cool nowadays as they were back in the 30s and 40s; there is this quality to them that you just don't get in modern pictures. The only problem with these pictures is because my dad & mom split when I was so young, and my dad really hasn't been active in our lives, I don't know very much about the people in the pictures! I'm even not exactly sure of my Dad's dad's name! I think I know it, but he died when my dad was young, so I never met him. I met the man my Grandmother remarried when I was a baby, and he was always my Grandpa after that. But I want info! There is very little written on the pictures. I think that is a lesson to everyone-- write the names of the people you take pictures of ON the picture, because you never know who will get them someday who has no idea! But I'm hoping, once they are all scanned, to have my mom & dad go through them and identify and label and tell me stories about these people, so I can pass them on to my own kids. It sucks not knowing your own family's history, but I really don't know much about my Dad's family.

Anyway. Back to work! I've got some pictures of myself in here from when I was about 12. Great hair. Maybe I'll consider sharing. :)

No blog today

But just in case you were worried at the two days without posts, they're still cookin'. I did have to go in to get my blood pressure checked cause I'm swelling up like a big old swelling thing in water (my gift for simile has apparently deserted me this morning). But I'm good. Babies are good. Still turning flips and doing their Cirque de Soleil routine. I'm either one or two weeks away from the C-section, (depending on which doctor does the scheduling) which I expect them to tell me a date for tomorrow. So.

I'm tired, swollen and a little contraction-y. So I'm going to lie down and digest the incredible sweet potato pie (with crumbly stuff on top) I had for lunch. (I had other things too-- but the pie was the best). Mmmmmmmmmmmmm pie.

It's Saturday

and I am obsessed with my new mobile. The giraffe is so cute! Red, with green spots and a purple ruff. Big old bug eyes. It plays music from three classical composers. I really like the Bach-- it's Prelude in C Major, and it sounds really restful. I installed in the other day on one of the babies' cribs (I'm planning on making them share, cause these things aren't cheap and I thought two mobiles going at once, with competing songs, would be really really annoying.) But I adore this thing!!

Later, we get to try to figure out how the hell to put the car seats (pictured there-- aren't they cute?) in the car properly. These things need to be done before the babies get here, and I tried the other day and it was hard!! I can't understand the instructions in the manual well enough, and while it ought to be easy, it just doesn't seem to fit properly in my car. So now that Andrew is home (yay!) he has to put is Y chromosome to work and see if he can do it. Then we go to the fire-department to make sure we did it right.

Our friends all went to the Texas Folk Life Festival-- but I have major issues with going to outdoor "folk" events in the middle of freakin' summer in Texas when you literally could fry an egg on the sidewalk, to eat meat on a stick that costs four bucks and drink crappy beer around a lot of other people walking around, doing the same thing. Even when I'm not pregnant. So we didn't get invited to go with (not complaining about this-- happy happy!!) But later, Indian food and a movie. Woo-hoo!

So see what an exciting weekend one can have once one is in a breedy way?

My Naval Adventure

Robotnik's post about an Army recruiter harassing him in a parking lot reminded me that I have a story to tell about the military & recruiters. Like to hear it?; here it go.

At 18 ish, just a summer out of high school and no idea how I was going to pay for college, I wandered in for some reason to the local Navy recruiter's office. My mom was in the Navy, long ago, and so was my Dad (that's how they met, actually) so it was a long tradition for me. My boyfriend of the time (evil ex) was going into the Navy Reserve and it seemed like a great way to get money for college. (I didn't know about Pell Grants at the time).

When I got there, the Navy Reserve guy was not in. I think I wandered in fairly late-- after business hours. The regular Navy Recruiter, though, and a guy not at all shy about stealing his buddy's potential suckers recruits, WAS there. He talked to me about the regular Navy being a much better deal. At that point I was pretty damned desperate to get out of Fort Walton Beach, have some freakin' prospects, and so I was game for listening.

The recruiter was an interesting study. He was African-American, and he actually had long fingernails, the first man I'd ever seen to have something other than blunt cut short nails, and the pinky nail was extra long, pointy. They were not painted, but buffed carefully to a white shine. You could tell he had spent a lot of time on them. I remember staring fascinated at his hands as we filled out paperwork. His hands looked delicate and yet the contrast with his white military uniform was intense.

I took the ASVAB, scoring higher on it than my hubby the officer (found this out later. I am sooo smart!) While taking the ASVAB, this "incident" happened. We had to catch a bus from the recruiting offices to the military base, and there was a big group of people interested in the military, from all four branches. We were all sitting there, waiting to take the test, and this hard-core, good looking Marine came in, trailing a thin goofy guy with curly brown hair-- think Tom Green without the sense of humor. He was the kind of guy that in a movie about WW2 would get a nickname like "Radar" or "Shithead". The Marine said to the testing lady, off to the side but we heard it anyway, "They can never make it in time for the bus". (Which to me sounded a bit like someone who ought NOT be considering the ultra-regimented Marines as a career choice, but hey, what do I know?) While filling out the bubbles for the scan-tron style test, we came to a section where we were supposed to fill out which branch of the services we were applying to. I bubbled in Navy, of course. The curly haired Tom Green type raised his hand and said he wasn't applying to be in any branch of the military. The proxy lady looked perplexed. Well why are you here then? She said, trying to keep the flow of form-filling-out going. I dunno. he replied. Some guy just called me on the phone and told me to come and take this test. As a group, the entire room said "Marines. Just put Marines there." Proxy lady, struggling to keep from smiling, asked him which recruiter he was talking to and eventually settled on putting the Marines in the spot.

I always thought Tom Green must have been living at home and had his dad call up the Marine recruiter and say "Look. You've got to get my son off my hands for me. He's been sitting in my basement since he graduated from high school. Call him and recruit him. He's won't ask too many questions, just get him to sign on the dotted line and you got a body to chunk in front of the bad guys."

I went to "military processing" and everything, which included the swearing in ceremony and a night at a cheap hotel in Birmingham, AL, where there were several black girls in the pool who were terrified, swore they couldn't swim, and were on their way the VERY NEXT DAY to boot camp IN THE NAVY. We all asked them whey they enlisted in the Navy when they were afraid of water. (Since there are three other non-aquatic service-choices). They had no answer; they just smiled and tried to force themselves to pry their hands away from the edge of the pool. Seemed like a late start on water acclimation, though.

My room mate at the hotel was a slutty chick who wandered off after the pool to make out with one of the other guys processing. She told me she sucked his tongue, that all guys liked that "It made them think of other things you might do the same thing to." At military processing, I took the "oath". Mostly. When we did the "I [state your name]" part, I, smartass who had seen Stripes too many times, actually said "I [state your name]" while the other recruits said names (including slutty room mate and her victim short-haired guy). But I guess raising the hand and saying the rest worked just as well in the long run, and I was officially in the Navy for about 8 months while waiting for my "slot" to open up. I went to Illinois and worked as a shoe-sales person in the meantime, with a male boss who used to like to try on the large sized women's shoes. Pinstriped business suit and long lanky legs wedged into black patent leather high heeled pumps, wandering around in the stockroom.

I never did actually go to boot camp, however. I left for it, rode the bus and woke up in the ungodly hours of one Birmingham morning, about a year later, remembering the girls who couldn't swim from before. Same hotel; no roommate or time to swim in the pool. I got to the bus late, and learned my only personal-experience military lesson-- always get to the bus early if you want a seat. I had major woozy tummy that morning, at 4 am holding onto a bar above me while I tried to stay standing in a moving bus packed with people.* Too damn early. I never get up that early and it made me feel sick. I wasn't looking forward to that continuing at boot camp.... but....

Luckily for me, in the long run, I didn't need Uncle Sam's military money to go to college because I was poor enough to qualify for Pell Grants, which pretty much paid all tuition and books. While preparing for that collegiate debut, I met Andrew, and we dated while I attended my first college (some of it long distance dating but still) for about 1 year 1/2 till we got married, and then, instead of a Navy Ricky I got to be a Navy Spouse.

I don't knock it. The military is NOT the life for everyone but it's been pretty good to me and my family in the long run. It paid to have my teeth fixed, it's paying for me to have my babies, it sent me to London where I walked the same streets as Shakespeare, touched the rails at Canterbury cathedral and bought a Wife of Bath charm for my bracelet. It's not a bunch of fascists gung-ho about killing people, but it is home to a lot of good, well-meaning folks who really do feel they are serving their country and protecting the rights of the U.S. But in the long run, I'm glad I didn't go into the Navy, myself. I'm much better at being the supportive liberal wife. :)

I think you probably need to be pretty young to enlist as anything other than an officer, because they put you through the kind of stuff only young people will put up with. But it would have been a good opportunity for me. I was going to be an X-Ray or sonogram med tech. I could have made good money doing sonograms for people-- and seen a lot of babies and happy parents. Of course, that was way before the first Gulf War and years away from any armed conflict, and I can understand why nowadays the Army is not meeting its recruiting goals. Who wants to go over and be blown up by an IED? I'm not even sure you could have gotten old Tom Green guy to bubble in his preference for the Marines nowadays. He'd have tried a little harder to miss that bus.

*(The reason I didn't go is a story for another day, though. I'm going to have to leave you with a cliffhanger to see if you really love me enough to deserve the tale. Maybe, if enough people comment, I will tell it. Maybe not... though, it's a long, sad how do you do and I'm not sure I want to come out of the closet with it.

Last night I had the strangest dream
I sailed away to China
In a little row boat to find ya'
And you said you had to get your laundry cleaned
Didn't want no-one to hold you
What does that mean?..... Matthew Wilder

I dreamt that I had my babies, and they were healthy and happy and I was learning how to nurse them. But then Sean turned into my cat, Tituba, only she was also still my baby. I guess it's cause my subconscious doesn't quite know what to do with the new input of being a mom to something other than a kitty. But it was interesting, to say the least.

Very vivid dreams are always intriguing-- some people think they don't have dreams, but you do, you just don't remember them. For years, I've been considered one of those people that others like to tell your dreams to, for some reason. I don't even necessarily tell anyone else that I am good at dream symbols-- they just start to tell me a dream and say "I don't know why I told you that" but many times, my helping them sort through the symbolism has been helpful for them.

I read Tarot cards, (not in an "I'm psychic" way, but in a "let's interpret symbols and see what you think it is" sort of guided-therapy way) and so I suppose some folks think because of that I can do dreams too. I'm actually not bad at it. As a literature major who specializes in fairy tale and myth and magic, I know a lot about symbols and what they traditionally mean. But really, what YOU think they mean is usually even more important than what any dream interpretation book says it means. There is no real "fortune telling" to it-- it's just helping you figure out what your subconscious meant with the symbols. Cause you really do know what the dream meant, on some level, you just have to think about it and know how to read the symbols.

Have you ever had a flying dream? They're supposed to be astral traveling. All I know is they're really cool to have. You wake up and you just want to keep dreaming. Andrew says he has them sometimes, and in them he's very wobbly and out of control, like the guy in Greatest American Hero (remember that show?) I can see that in him-- he's a dreamer, like me, but he doesn't quite feel in control of it. I can do magic in dreams, sometimes, too, and I love those dreams. It's like reading a great book and really becoming immersed in that world, only better.

I have had a few dreams that one could argue were prophetic. When I was about 16 I dreamt that I saw this kid get run over by a car in a parking lot. Watching the news later that night I found out that indeed, this young person had been killed in a parking lot nearby. A number of the details of my dream matched what had happened. So that was weird as hell. I also dreamt about a plane falling from the sky (what was really bizarre about it was that there were hundreds of scorched teddy bears falling from the wreckage) about a week before a plane crashed (years ago). That one was really scary, and I hope to never have that happen again! Again, I'm not saying I'm psychic or anything-- not in the least.

I guess if I'm anything, it's a believer in Jungian ideas about the collective unconscious and that one can sort of "tap in" to energy that runs the universe and sometimes that means you see or imagine things that are real. It's not an established philosophy so much as a gut feeling, but I dunno. It's just hard to ignore when you have had a few things "odd" happen to you in your life, and you can't explain them. As Hamlet says: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." William Shakespeare, "Hamlet", Act 1 scene 5.

So there. A dream about babies turning into little black kitties and falling out of their nappies. And me holding them both and trying to figure out what to do. They were dressed in butter yellow and lavender, like their nursery colors, so now I know which is supposed to go with which baby (Sean is the lavender, Maia the soft yellow).

It doesn't take a genius to figure that dream out. But it is kind of cool, cause it's the first time I've dreamt where both babies were there and I was figuring out the whole being a mommy thing. I know the blog has been obsessed with this lately, and it's really hard to write something other than that. If you bear with me, I'm sure I'll be writing about more thought-provoking things soon. :)

MEEEEEmmmmmmories

Surfing my own blog is really vain, I know, but what else is a girl to do today to recover from her hard day yesterday (besides sleep?) I've apparently morphed into my cat in many ways. If I start licking my hand and running it through my hair, I promise to call for help.

But in looking at my own blog for an, um, scientific experiment (yeah, that's the ticket) I found this blog post I had forgotten all about. I STILL think it's way cool that I have a Kevin Bacon number of 3, again, even though it's not actually ME that is the Kim Wells in the KB game, it still rocks!

Just Practicing, (We Hope)

Yesterday's post mentioned the "first official contraction".... well, when I was at the doctor's office, she had said something to the effect of "I hope you start having a few more contractions here and there soon"... and I think she jinxed me. Yesterday, all afternoon was spent timing and keeping track of fairly mild-medium strength contractions. They were basically deemed to be practice ones, until water breaks or they get stronger & more frequent, I'm supposed to rest and call the nurse if I notice any changes. So I stayed the night at a friend's house and she was in charge of driving me to the hospital if anything happened, since Andrew will be out of town till late Friday night.

This morning, so far, two more, but one was really quick and short. Now that I'm home, I'm going back to bed and "grounding" the twins. They need to know they aren't allowed to come out and play at least until Andrew is home. I'll certainly keep you all posted if anything else happens. I'm pretty sure these are just really bad Braxton-Hicks practice runs, but who knows? It's about the time twins usually come (they average 3 1/2 weeks early) and I was pegging that date as June 10, so it wouldn't be unusual. Since they're so big, if it was a factor of labor, the doctors don't even think they'd have to spend any time in NICU. So that's good. Twins are different that way-- they mature earlier than single pregnancies, probably because nature knows you can't get much bigger after a while.

Anyhoo. Back to bed.

About 13 pounds of baby!

Had a doctor's appt this morning-- everything is going well. They measured the babies with the sonogram measurements that tell you approximately what they weigh. Maia is weighing in at 5 pounds 9 oz and Sean is a whopping 6 pounds 12 oz. So that's a lot of baby! They're basically about the size of a singleton pregnancy, really, when you think about it!! Amazing. I won't share with you how much I weighed. I pretend those numbers apply to something other than my weight. Like perhaps my IQ. :) Suffice to say I am squarely in SUPER genius range if that IQ/weight thing were actually interchangeable. (Don't I wish!).

I also had what they call a "non-stress" test, where they monitor the babies' heartrates and look for some markers of distress. I get these twice a week now. They also monitor me for contractions. Well, today was the first time I've had a contraction that registered on the tape while on the machine. I've had that sensation mildly before, but this time it was "official." So I've had my first "official" contraction. Exciting, huh? So now I know for sure that "that feeling" is a contraction. I had thought so, but never have had one when I was being monitored before. As long as they wait till at least this Saturday, I'll be happy-- Andrew will be home late Friday night, and this is the last time he goes away till way after they'll be here. I sort of need him around to drive me, you know?! :)

Anyway, now it's time for a post-lunch, post-doctor's appointment nap. I always need one cause it's pretty tiring driving way out to the hospital and back and I woke up at 5:30 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep.

So no riveting, interesting post today. It happens. I never claimed to be Hemingway or anything. Can you imagine what Hemingway would have written about if he were pregnant? Might have done him some good in the long run.

Wow, I Skipped Sunday?

I was busy yesterday on the computer, I just forgot to blog. Usually, if I miss a day I'm quite aware of it, but yesterday just slipped right passed. I am working on my women writers "zine" right now, working to publish the new issue, and it's a lot of editing/converting documents to HTML. I hate converting MS Word documents, because Microsoft, in their inevitable wisdom, puts all kinds of proprietary code into their documents which you have to strip out if you want your HTML to function well. Bleah! But then you have to go through and make sure you don't lose the things you need, like italics, or whatever. Phooey! But I'm almost done with said project, the zine will "go live" today in a few hours. It's a good issue-- I had guest editors do one on Feminist Mentoring.

Last night I performed a big exciting thing. I packed my bag for the hospital!! PJ's, toiletries, slippers, "going home" outfit-- all "check." I used the gorgeous red leather diaper bag my best friend gave me to pack my stuff in, since the babies' stuff is in a little black bag (which was purchased with the idea that Andrew will have a more "masculine" bag, plus, I don't want to share my cool red one.) :) I mean, have you noticed that countdown thing up there? Fewer than 30 days remain till my due date, and you can automatically deduct about 3 days from the countdown because it has my unrevised due date on it (which was initially July 7-- now is July 4). Then, you can deduct at least a week because my doctor said he would schedule my c-section either in the 38 or 39th week. So take off ten days and we're into the 20s!! If I make it that long, which I like to think I will, but which strangers and friends alike seem skeptical about. (As I've mentioned before.) I keep getting stopped by old ladies in the grocery store: "Oh, hon, I hope you go soon, don't you?" I must look like I'm uncomfortable. You know, I can't lie and say I feel perfect, but really, considering how big I am and how hard some things are (like putting on shoes!!) I actually am not feeling all that bad!

Anyway. Stop by my Women Writers site later today, would ya? (Give it a few hours from this post cause I still have some work to do). Cause it makes me feel all warm inside for my hit counter to pop up a bunch in a day.

Now, to go make myself that decaf latte and get to work.

Meme Me

Copy this whole list into your blog.
Bold the things that are true about you.
Add something that is true about you.

01. I miss somebody right now.
02. I don’t watch much TV these days.
03. I love olives
04. I own lots of books.06. I wear glasses or contact lenses.
07. I love to play video games.
08. I’ve tried marijuana.
09. I’ve watched porn movies.
10. I have been in a threesome.
11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship.
12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy.
15. I curse sometimes.
16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year.
17. I have a hobby.
19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me.
20. I’m TOTALLY smart.
21. I’ve never broken someone’s bones.
22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal.
23. I hate the rain.
24. I’m paranoid at times.
25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.
26. I need money right now.
27. I love sushi.
28. I talk really, really fast.
29. I have fresh breath in the morning.
30. I have long hair.
31. I have lost money in Las Vegas.
32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister.
33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S.
34. I shave my legs (females) or face (males) on a regular basis.
35. I have a twin (or a triplet, or somesuch).
36. I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past.
37. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D.
38. I like the way that I look.
39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months.
40. I know how to cornrow.
41. I am usually pessimistic.
42. I have a lot of mood swings.
43. I think prostitution should be legalized.
44. I think Britney Spears is pretty.
45. Slept with a Suitemate.
46. I have a hidden talent.
47. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have.
48. I have a lot of friends.
49. I am currently single.
50. I have pecked someone of the same sex. (given that pecked means kissed...)
51. I enjoy talking on the phone.
52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants.
53. I love to shop.
54. I would rather shop than eat.
55. I would classify myself as ghetto.
56. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders.
57. I’m obsessed with my Xanga or Livejournal.
58. I don’t hate anyone. I dislike them.
59. I’m a pretty good dancer
60. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington.
61. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother.
62. I have a cell phone.
63. I believe in God.
64. I watch MTV on a daily basis.
65. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months.
66. I love drama. (Somebody else’s shit, not my own)
67. I have never been in a real relationship before.
68. I’ve rejected someone before.
69. I currently have a crush/like someone. (yes, and I'm married to him)
70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.
71. I want to have children in the future. (good thing, huh?)
72. I have changed a diaper before.
73. I’ve called the cops on a friend before.
74. I bite my nails.
75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club.
76. I’m not allergic to anything.
77. I have a lot to learn.
78. I have been with someone at least 10 years older or younger.
79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest “Friday” movie.
80. I am shy around the opposite sex.
81. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message.
82. I have at least 5 away messages saved.
83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before.
84. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other or crush in the past.
85. I own the “South Park” movie.
86. I have avoided assignments at work school to be on Xanga or Livejournal.
87. When I was a kid I played “the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or chum.
88. I enjoy some country music.
89. I would die for my best friends.
90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza.
91. I watch soap operas whenever I can
92. I’m obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist.
93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career.
94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all.
95. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story”.
96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy.
97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it.
98. I have dated a close friend’s ex.
99. I like surveys/memes.
100. I am happy at this moment.
101. I’m obsessed with guys.
102. I am bisexual.
103. Democrat.
104. Conservative Republican. (there ARE other options you know. like Liberal Republican).
105. I am punk rockish.
106. I am preppy.
107. I go for older guys/girls, not younger
108. I study for tests most of the time.
109. I tie my shoelaces differently from anyone I’ve ever met.
110. I can work on a car.
111. I love my job.
112. I am comfortable with who I am right now.
113. I have more than just my ears pierced.
114. I walk barefoot wherever I can.
115. I have jumped off a bridge.
116. I love sea turtles.
117. I spend ridiculous amounts of money on makeup.
118. I believe in prophetic dreams.
119. I plan on achieving a major goal/dream.
120. I am proficient on a musical instrument.
121. I worked at McDonald’s restaurant.
122. I hate office jobs.
123. I love sci-fi movies.
124. I’ve never been in love.
125. I think water rules.
126. I am going to college out of state.
127. I am adopted.
128. I like sausage. (especially on a stick)
129. I am a pyro.
130. I love the Red Sox.
131. I have thrown up from crying too much.
132. I have been intentionally hurt by people that I loved.
133. I love kisses.
134. I fall for the worst people and have been hurt every time.
135. I adore bright colors.
136. I love Dear Abby.
137. I can’t live without black eyeliner.
138. I think school is awesome. (I'm so lame. And probably too old for this meme.)
139. I think pigtails serve a purpose.
140. I don’t know why the hell I just did this stupid thing.
141. I usually like covers better than originals.
142. I don’t like multi-textured ice cream
143. I think John Cusack is adorable.
144. I f**king hate chain theme restaurants like Applebees and TGIFridays.
145. I watch Food Network way too much.
146. I love coaching youth sports.
147. I can pick up things with my toes
148. I can’t whistle.
149. I can move my tounge in waves, much like a snakes’ slither.
150. I have ridden/owned a horse.

Seen in Borders Parking Lot

When I was in high school, there was this guy who drove an old hearse, you know, like the chick in Six Feet Under. It still had the curtains & everything, although it was painted blue instead of black. But he didn't have the right attitude about it-- it was "just a car".... and I got the distinct feeling he didn't really live the experience.

But yesterday afternoon, stopping in to Borders for a new read, I spotted a delightful vision in hearse-ness. Recycling, you might say. I got a heck of a belly laugh, and with a belly this size, you know that is saying something. (I love it when you see something and you say to yourself "I can't wait to blog about that!")

This hearse was still quite black, shiny. It was an older model, with the more square lines than the modern ones. But it was so perfect.

It had a sun-screen (one of those cardboard foldy ones) in the window from A Nightmare on Elm Street featuring Freddy Kruger. Freddy stared out boldly from the front window, beknived fingers waggling at you. They parked with the "butt in" so that you couldn't possibly miss the gloriousness of the window screen. All the windows, actually, were closed with something so you would have had to get awfully close to peek in (which I wasn't about to do!) The vanity license plate said, I swear to all that is holy, "UNDEAD."

I give them major major points for being funny, creative, etc. I thought briefly about writing a little "way to go; your car is way cool" note on a sticky post it and putting it on their window, just to let them know they were noticed, and appreciated. But what if there really was a vampire in there, cooling it during the daylight hours in the Borders parking lot? I wasn't taking any risks.

Serendipitous Searching

Not to blast you with two days in a row of underwear discussion but this morning, while looking for a book title to recommend to CCW, I found these delightful underwear. Wonder Woman underwear!! I've always been jealous of the underoos boys got to wear. I was too old when they first came out, plus, when you're 12, you don't think it's fun to cross-dress, and I wouldn't have worn boy underwear at that time to save my soul. I always wanted superhero undies. I had no idea these existed. I'm going to have to buy me a set of these when I'm no longer a mesopotamian fertility goddess.

These are from a whole department sponsored by amazon, called Web Undies. They have pajamas for girls & guys, things from the Three Stooges to Led Zeppelin & probably every variation in between. There were like 800-something products. I did not browse all of them. But I did see a lot of cute jammies I would wear. Andrew doesn't like boxer shorts-- do most guys? It makes me laugh to imagine serious guys walking around wearing a pair of "choke the chicken" boxer shorts. Your doctor, your pilot when you fly to Europe. May be wearing goofy boxers. (Probably they're wearing tidy-whities, but still).

Related Tangent in 3.......2........1

On the night that Andrew got me to say "I love you" first, we had gone to a toga party at this bar in Pensacola called Trader John's. (Yes, that was one of the places involved in the Tailhook Scandal... I won't go into details but it was). I can't actually remember what my toga looked like, or if I even wore one. I think it was just the guys, actually. I recently got a picture of it sent to me from one of my good friends, and it's pretty funny (I've taken out the other friend in the photo cause he's an Admiral's Aid nowadays and a picture like this one could be, you know, embarrassing). Tall Andrew in his popples toga (we used my friend's daughter's sheets) and cowboy boots. He also wore these banana boxer shorts. The only time I've ever seen him really in boxers. He limbo-ed at some point in the drunken night and revealed his banana boxers to the bar very cutely (he was the drunken one; I was sober cause in those days I didn't drink much, not having ever been offered the good stuff and hating beer). I think I've alluded to this story before, but he was a tricksy fellow... we had been dating maybe five or six months at this time, and he drunkenly leaned against me and looked at me with cute little puppydog eyes and slurred "love me?" And of course, I did. More the shmuck I was. :) So I had to say, Yes, you big drunken Texan, I do love you. And then I tried to drive his pickup truck home (which was complicated, cause it was an ornery old steering column shifter standard-- hard to drive if you've never driven one). And we contemplated the sadness of being in love when he was leaving in a few short weeks for Washington state, and I was staying in Florida, almost the furthest away you can be from someone and still both be in the CONUS.

But as you see, it all worked out in the end. But now I feel like I should buy him a new pair of wacky boxer shorts (see how it all comes wrapping around again to the beginning? hah! Now THAT'S skillful writing). But he wouldn't wear them, and they'd just end up being my pajamas eventually, so I should just go in for the Wonder Woman set. And maybe some Hello Kitty. Underwear. Underwear!! Mwah ha hahahahahahahahaha!*

***********
*Evil laughter courtesy Kim's inner mad scientist. "That's DOCTOR Evil Genius to you. I didn't spend seven years at evil medical school for nothing, monkey-boy." OOH! And check out the evil genius code here.... ripped off from Geek Code. I may have to do one on myself.

Commando....

is something that a pregnant woman should not have to "go." But do you know how difficult it is to find underwear that fits my body shape right now? Victoria's Secret just doesn't do it.

Remember that movie She's Having A Baby, where Kevin Bacon's character holds up a pair of his wife's pre-pregnancy undies, and they're all cute and tiny, and then her pregnancy ones, which are huge white granny-panties? Well, those granny-panties wouldn't even fit me.

I'm off to the maternity store to TRY to find something that fits me. Wish me luck. I think I'll really need it.

And on another note, has anyone else noticed that Louis Armstrong's song "What a Wonderful World" has been completely taken over by that preview there was for Hitchhiker's Guide where that song played with a pretty celestial Earth in the background, till it was blown up? Yeah. Me too. And for some reason, the local station I listen to has taken to playing it all the time. And every single time it plays I visualize that scene. Don't Panic my ass!