Dammit...I mean, Congrats!

This was another attempt at a post...and I expressed all my joyful wishes and thoughts about how far we've all come and funny stories about Bumperstickers, Nutty Russians on Crack, and people pretending to be asleep on couches so a girl can go meet her destiny...

I. am. So. Pissed.

I was loading pics and it was working fine. Then BAM! all gone.This picture appears to be the culprit...



That me and Jodi, Matt's lovely bride, sticking swords in our noses. When I try to load it, it goes, but manages to erase the rest of my post. And it's gone. Poof. Forever. You would think I would have saved it first, but NO, I'm an idiot.

And I am spent. I can't do it again. I feel horrible, but I'm worn out

But quick, because it's important....

Matt is awesome.

I'm glad J and Matt are friends.

I'm more glad that when I would find them locked in a parked car together after pulling a disappearing act at parties, they were only listening to music

and still fully clothed.


Jodi is awesome.

I'm glad Matt found her.

How often do find a girl willing to stick a sword up her nose?

I couldn't be more happy for both of them and their pack of black dog children.

I wish I was there to hug you.

J is there, so he better represent.

I wish you guys all the happiness and laughter the world can offer. I'm thrilled for you! I love you guys.



Yay Jodi and Matt!

Blogger Photo Upload sucks my butt

I just wrote a nice long post about Matt and it got eaten by Blogger and I am so pissed right now I don't even know what to do.

It was titled "Black Dogs Unite" because they have so many black dogs...see, good, right? Well, it was kinda sappy. "Matt's so great"...blah, blah, blah. Not that you aren't great, Matt! Because, you know you are.

Mostly it was about how J and Matt would be the ones getting married if one of them didn't have a penis. But luckily for me and Jodi they both do.

In the meantime...J and Matt and Jodi are all hanging out in Oregon together and I'm sure they are having a wonderful time. I admit I am jealous. Jealous but completely elated for them. It's going to be such a beautiful wedding and a rockin' party. Even without the sockmonster...

Now just waiting for Heff to call...

I just finished dinner. I had mashed potatoes. That's it. Not very healthy I know, but with it, I had a side of prenatal vitamin, so it's ok.

This is what happens when you cook for one. J is in Portland for a little over a week and I am left to my Lean Cusines and cereal...and of course, Instant mashed potatoes,yum! J is in Oregon, first on business, and second because our friend Matt is getting married. Hi Matt! (He sometimes comes here, though he's probably too busy this week to bother, or at least he should be...hey Matt, don't let the lady do all the work! Get off the internet and go pick up some relatives at the airport or something. But then check in later this week because I will be dedicating a post to you and your lovely lady, Jodi.)

I'm not there because I'm HUGE and pregnant. Also, wedding cake may send me spiraling into a coma. I failed my gestational diabetes test. Just the first one. I took another test on Friday, which I will find the results of tomorrow. Oh, I should totally take a picture of my arms, I look like a heroine addict. By the way, what's worse than sitting in a plane of recycled air for and hour and a half after the doctor has informed you that you have a "comprimised immune system?" How 'bout the Laboratory Waiting Room at the Hospital for 3 hours whilst a girl about the age of 19 continually pokes holes in your arms and drains you of fluid. At least on a plane you can bet the vast majority of the people are healthy, but the hospital? Nope, all sickies. I should have saved my Airborne for that. Oh well, so far so good.

This is a little embarassing and seems very self-important and vain. But if this blog isn't the epitome of self-importance, I'm not sure what is... After repeated requests of a picture of my ginormous belly, I finally took one..or 68. I set up the tripod today because I want to take a picture to give to J when he is off in San Diego at the beach with his 23 year old coworkers. Just so he remembers the Tub of Love he's got waiting for him at home.

Here's just the belly

Here's the artsy black and white version

Now here's one with my head in it

again, b&W version


I took a gazillion pictures on timer and these are the only ones that don't show me with at least 3 chins. I photoshoped that belly shot a little in the b&W...perhaps I should redo it. I put a spotlight on the belly, but instead of making it look serene or magical, it just looks shiny. Hm, shiny bellies are sexy, no?

Consider me showered. In a downpour of blue fuzzy stuff.

Billy: Hi, this is Billy from Dumbass Delivery Service. Wanted to let you know I dropped off your luggage from United this morning.

Me: Um, where? At a neighbors?

Billy: No, on your front porch.

Me: On my front porch? That's practically on the street. I live downtown. Like, RIGHT downtown. What if someone swipes it?

Billy: Your not being very optimistic.

Me: Oh, I'm optimistic. Optimistic that the only clothing I own that actually fits my big, bloated, pregnant body is now walking down Maple street along with all the Thank You cards that Mrs. T was nice enough to pre-address and stamp...and not to mention all those baby sweaters I knitted. Are you some kind of fucking idiot?!

(Ok, I didn't say that, but that's what I was thinking. But he did actually say that I "wasn't being optimistic.)

Me (really): Do you normally just leave peoples stuff on their porch?

Billy: Don't worry, I cleared it with my supervisor.

He responded to additional inquiries regarding a course of action should my stuff get stolen with "I don't know what to tell you." Moron.

Luckily J was able to leave work, run home, and get my bag and put it in the house. Disaster averted, though I was thinking about how much money I might be able to get out of United. Especially if my leg should suddenly become inflammed and painful because I couldn't take my much needed antibiotics! Oh, they got lucky, very lucky.

OK...on to the less bitchy portions of my weekend.

I had a great shower. I must give credit to Mrs. T who planned the event with my mother, which couldn't have been an easy task. It was just what I wanted. Food, good people, booze for the unpregnant and, of course, lots of presents! I'm an not really a "shower person" and I had a wonderful time!

I found out the reason my mother was having, what seemed to me, and extrememly strong reaction the possibililty of me not coming, is that she flew in all her sisters as a surprise. The Aunts. Including my mom they make up a foresome of Midwestern, cassarole cookin', placemat crocheting, Mathew McCaughnehey loving ladies. They are scattered around the country, so it was a big deal for them all to be in one place at one time. The last time they were all together was J and my's wedding. So it was great to see them. Though it did require that I sit through the photo portfolio of my Aunt M's quilting projects...twice.

This kid is set for clothing for the next year. Though I may have to do a little shopping to balance out the utter preciousness of it all. I love the stuff I got, it's all just so....cute.** Don't get me wrong, I'm liking the cute. But my favorite thing about boy clothing is the "little man" outfits. You know, jeans, rugby shirts, suede elbow patches. It makes them look like shrunken adults. Right now he'll look like a shrunken mascot for the Perriwinkle Puppydogs or something that should be put in an easter basket.

**To anyone who reads this that sent me something that is not "cute" I...maybe I should just go through a quick list. Amy, the Frank Zappa shirt rocks. Diddy, the Vans! The kid is doing ollies as we speak. And Mrs. T...the Hokie garb was all I was hoping for. My friends are the coolest.

Moops

Well everyone can relax. And by everyone, I mean my mom, and by extension myself, because when mama's not happy, nobody's happy. The lump is smaller!

The doctor told me that if it wasn't better in 24 hours, she didn't want me to travel. After 24 hours it wasn't, so I called my mom and her head exploded with thoughts of wasted cheese platters and mamosas. I told her it looked the same, though I must admit, it even looked a little worse. Baby shower attendance was shoty at best. But the doctor told me to call her Friday morning, which is technically 36 hours. So cursing my immune system, I popped another antibiotic and did a little "Shrink the Thing in my Leg Dance" and went to bed. And it's a Baby Shower miracle! Praised Be the benefits of sleep and smelly orange pills! Oh, it's still there, and it still hurts, but at least when I called the doctor this morning and told her it was better, I wasn't lying.

So now I get to fly! Which seems like it may be just a stressful as staying home. At least the little guy isn't around yet, or I might have to do shots of breast milk in front of long lines of annoyed travelers.

All this drama gave me a reason to blow off my crappy temp job today. I started yestederday and it was a nightmare! I am whoring myself out for $10/hr to help with a "mass mailing." I figured this meant stuffing envelopes. Whatever, I'm not doing anything else, right? Well, it was more like packing and shipping. Boxes of books and brochures to be packaged up and Fed Exed all over the state. I was on my feet all day, and lifting shit. Not good. The lifting wasn't constant, and I could tell the supervisor was a little concerned. But when you have to move a box to get to something, you don't want call some 50 year old over-weight lady over to move it for you.

(This is my plea to not yell at me for lifting boxes....believe me, I wouldn't do anything to jeapordize the little guy, it just sucked and wore me out...they were like 25 pounds and small...please don't yell at me. I know. I know.)

It sucked. My feet hurt, my back hurt and all I wanted was to sit. On the way out I told the supervisor I had a developing medical situation that I had to deal with today, so I wouldn't be in. She was super cool about it. I told her that I would understand if she wanted to call the temp agency to get someone else, but she said I was so speedy, I did two days of work already. I'm supposed to work for 4 days . I plan to go back on Monday and Tuesday. We did all the big orders first, so by then it should just be filling large envelopes, while seated. And don't worry, I plan to call my temp agency and tell them that I will no longer take jobs that require me to stand all day long.

I still don't know what is up with my leg. Bug bite? Hope so, that would be easiest thing for my body to fight. Bruise, I definitely don't think so. The most likely culprit is a bacterial infection of some sort that either entered through a Shingles blister (nice) or through my swollen cracked pregnant feet (even better). Apparently, my immune system is not up to the task of fighting off much of anything. With a lack of alternatives

I've taken to washing my hands alot and not walking around the house barefoot. I'm sure these steps will be effective as I breathe in recycled air for an hour and a half.

Just waiting for my teeth to start falling out

"Well, we ruled out a blood clot, though there is something there."

"Like what?"

"Could be a bruise, or something like cellulits."

"Cellulitis? What's that?"

"Its when you get an infection in...well, um..."

"Your cellulite?"

"Yeah."

Great. It's bad enough that I have cellulite to begin with, now it can get infected?! Of course, they don't know if that is, in fact, what is going on. Apparently, anything besided a blood clot is not worth worrying about...unless your me. I spent most of the time on the ultrasound table trying decide what event I would be good at for the para-olympics, because if it's not a blood clot, it's definitely a tumor and they will for sure cut off my leg. (I think Js hypochondria is rubbing off on me, this line of thought is more his style.)

I woke up yesterday morning with a pain on the side of my knee. It was sore to the touch and pretty much just felt like a bruise. I couldn't think of how I managed to bruise myselft there, but chalked it up as pregnant lady sleep flailing and hopped in the shower. I had my day planned. I was going to finish knitting a shower gift for a friend and then head downtown to shop for some cute maternity junk and hats to counteract the severe self esteem blow delived by a terrible haircut.

Well, half way through my stroll downtown my leg was really hurting. I felt the side of my knee and there was a distinct lump and boy, was it sore. So after my bandanna and hat purchase at Urban Outfitters, I head home and onto the internet.

Which is never a good idea.

The first scary thing I found was blood clots. Apparently pregnant ladies are prone to these, especially in the leg. So I call my mom, who tells me to call the doctor, who tells me to get my butt over to the office. She takes a quick look, furrows her brow and leaves the room. She comes back in and states she's sending me over to the hospital for an ultrasound of my leg...and since they are "squeezing me in" I could be there for hours. Which I was.

But luckily, no blood clot, which I guess could really be bad. So I was very relieved. However, now that we know what it isn't, I want to know what it is. It still hurts. It's definitely not a bruise...it's red and growing. It's about twice the size of yesterday morning. If it's an infection, I want it gone before it gets in the blood stream or anything...mama worry is kicking in full throttle. I don't have a 'regular' doctor yet, so I'm calling my OB today to find out what I should do.

So that's the drama. Geez, can anything else be up with me and my body? For real. Enough already. I really don't want this blog to become a dumping ground for my medical issues...first Shingles, and not to mention it's already named after my corn related digestive disorder. Did I tell you I have a zit on my shoulder?...well, I do. (and hairdresser from hell also stated I have "flake situation"...there, more than you ever wanted to know).

And now back to Matt in the Studio!

The self-image of a pregnant woman is a very delicate thing. There are times were the added curves make you feel more womanly, but most of the time, you just feel kinda fat. And feeling sexy? Well, fleeting instances at best. Therefore, accessories have become very important. I enjoy a cute shirt, have taken to wearing a little makeup and even some jewlery. I just bought a pair of oversized rock n' roll Nicole Richie-esque sunglasses, though I'm not completely convinced I pull them off. And to top it off, I have my new shorter hip hair do.

Well, at least I did.

I have been butchered. Ok, that language is a little strong. But honestly, I look like Dorothy Hamil. And no matter what I do, I can't get the funky cool bob back. Instead I have this strange urge to go to the Regal Beagle and open a flower shop


J and I went in for haircuts on Saturday (his looks fabulous, by the way). I opted for the more expensive "experienced" stylist. I told her I was new to this haircut and I just wanted a trim. I explained it should be a little shorter in the back than in the front and I wanted the bangs trimed up a bit. Other than that, a little reinforcing of the layers and some thinning out to reduce the poof factor, and we'd be done. She seemed to understand and she got to work.

The salon we went to is right on the water. I had a prime seat next to a big window, looking out over the docks and across the lake. So as she begun her work, she turned my chair away from the mirror and towards the window. That's right! So I couldn't see what she was doing...sneaky, I know.

Well, after about 20 minutes of babyname talk and criticism of my current hair maintenance regime, she turned me back. The first thing she said was "So, are you freaking out?"

Um, why would she ask me that? Clearly, she knew she deviated from the plan...

First thing I noticed was that it was really short. Like REALLY short. But it was still wet. It's hard to tell anything. She told me to let it air dry to keep the curl and put some goop in it, and ran her fingers through. She explained that if I didn't like something, just call and she'd fix it. That would be reassuring if I had any hair left. Which I don't, so needless to say, I won't be calling.

Anyway, as soon as I got home, I got to work. The front is shorter than the back. THE FRONT IS SHORTER THAN THE BACK. The exact opposite of what I said. It doesn't quite make it into mullet territory, but he front layers are short...no lenth at all. AAAARGH! And they're big chunky, thick short layers. All I can do is tuck behind my ears, which makes me look like...yep.



I'm just so sad because I really liked my new haircut. But now it's gone. I just keep reminding myself that hair grows and it could always be worse. I am going bandana shopping today to see if I can manage some sort of hair band, head shield device that will not make me look like a dork.

And no, I will not be posting a picture.

Shake my booties

I just dropped Tubbs off at the vet for his rescheduled EKG. I feel really bad...he was in such a happy mood this morning. I drank my morning coffee watching him roll around on the floor and growling trying to get me to play. Then I grabbed his leash and he went completely ape-shit. He bounded eagerly into the car, ready for whatever adventure lay ahead.

Then we got to the vet. He transformed into sad puppy. Tail down, ears back, hide behind mama's legs. Oh, the motherly guilt. At least he gets to hang out in air conditioning all day.

I am trying to muster the motivation to walk downtown to the camera repair store, but it's so darn hot. I broke one of my lenses. I dropped it. Stupid. It no longer wants to focus when zoomed in. Crappy. Wonder how much this will cost. Poop.

I can still take pictures though! But instead of using the focus I have to walk back and forth until I occupy the correct focal point to bring everything in clear. And since I'm again unemployed, I've been back on the knitting wagon!



Aren't they cute? A little 'coordinated' if you know what I mean. This is pretty much the color scheme I have planned for the nursery...a taupey tan, light blue and then also a nice vanilla white.

Ok, I'm going. I'm sweating while i sit here anyway, might as well be outside, in the hot, steamy, dog-breath of an atmosphere. Thankfully my shingles blisters are all popped and pretty much done doing their thing.

Later