Chris-saaaaaaaaay--This One's For You!

I spoke to my sister-in-law (Adam's brother's wife) last night (one of my top ten favorite things to do) and she mentioned that in all my blogs, she has not once seen her name been mentioned. I reminded her that because we become gossipy bitches when our phone lines connect, there's not much that I could write about her that wouldn't divulge some of my innermost gossip topics.

However, since I love to tell a story, a funny, gossipy one at that, I'll tell the story of how I first met my friend and sister-in-law Christine.

Adam and I had been dating for several months in October 1999 when we went to visit his brother Scott in New Jersey for a few hours. While we were there, Scott mentioned that he'd started dating a new girl, Christine, and that he'd really like for us to meet her. So he called her and asked her to come over to meet Adam and me for a little while. I could hear her voice on the other end of the phone saying she didn't want to come over. Right away, I was a little miffed; so Scott's new girlfriend doesn't want to come meet us? Granted, he'd just had a volatile breakup with his last girlfriend, who literally had turned out to be a nut job (let's just say that the end involved a car being driven on the New York City sidewalk; a clawed, scratched and bloody Scott; and Adam's missing bottle of wine). So, I was a little jaded about the women in Scott's life. However, after he finally convinced her to come over, I started to look forward to having another woman to hang out with, and possibly do some double dating with. At the time, Adam and I didn't have many other couples to hang out with. Then, 15 minutes later, she walked in. Christine looked eerily like the crazy nut job girlfriend from before, and she had a pompous air about her (that was only bolstered by her long, fur-lined coat). She barely said hello to Adam and me, and sat quietly, not talking for the rest of the afternoon. My "miffiness" was buoyed. Hmmmph.

Well, because men are men and don't pick up on anything, including lack of chemistry (Christine's and mine, that is), Adam and Scott suggested going to Costco to do some shopping. Once again, Christine protested (and I wanted to protest because I didn't know if I could handle another minute with Miss Sourpuss), but Scott managed to convince her to go with us. We arrive at Costco, and of course, the boys head off toward the gadgets, suggesting that we ladies "go look at clothes or something". I had that steely feeling in me that I was going through the motions, trying to be nice to some woman that obviously had no interest in me, and who I was at that point hoping not to have to spend much more time with. We shuffled around through the clothing, then ended up perusing the books and novels table. This was the time when "pet autobiographies" (a la "Marley and Me") were just starting to become fashionable, so being the dog enthusiast that I am, I picked up a few such novels and started telling Christine about Shabbi and Kika. I asked her if she had any pets.
...that was the turning point that changed everything.

Christine said, "Yeah, I've got two cats. One's called Gimpy, and the other one's called Big Fatty." Now, you have to imagine her talking with her strong New Jersey accent, which just makes the story (even to me, now 9 years later) absolutely hilarious.
I did a double take and said, "Gimpy? Big Fatty? Those are some names for cats."
Without smiling or missing a beat, she went on. "Well, Gimpy's real name is Elvis, but when I got him he'd just been hit by a car so he had a limp, so I started calling him The Gimp. Oh, but he gets around just fine now."
I started to look at this girl again. Not only was she not smiling at her own story, but she wasn't even looking at me. A story that was starting to break down the wall I'd put up against her didn't even cause her to blink. I took a shot. "So, why is Big Fatty called Big Fatty?"
Once again she responded matter-of-factly, "Oh, because he weighs 33 pounds. He's really fat."
I laughed in spite of myself. Thirty-three pounds???? That cat was 3 Kikas! How could it be? I just couldn't fathom such a large cat, and so I asked her if she'd had him since he was a kitten.
For the first time, Christine almost cracked a smile. "No, no, but it's a funny story, actually. I was working at my job and one of the girls who worked there was telling me that she had this cat that she couldn't keep anymore and wondered if I'd want it. I wanted a cat, so I told her that I'd take it and see if things worked out. So she and her husband lived about an hour or so away from where I did, so my dad came over to my place that weekend and waited with me for the girl and her husband to show up with the cat. When they drove up, I asked them if they wanted to come in for awhile--ya know, 'cause they'd been driving for a long time and maybe they needed to use the bathroom or something--but they said they were in a hurry and had someplace to be. I was surprised they were in such a rush, but didn't think much of it. I went to the car to help get the cat carrier out, but the husband insisted on carrying it inside the house for me. They were practically out of the door already by the time the cat was inside my place. I couldn't figure out why they were in such a hurry to leave. I asked them again if they wanted to stay for awhile, but they kept saying that they really had to be on their way and they'd see me later. Then they were gone.
So my father and I are standing in my living room with this cat in the carrier. I opened the door to the carrier to let the cat come out but it wouldn't move. My father said, 'Christine, I'll pick it up and turn it over so the cat falls out and you catch it, okay?' So that's what we did. But, Lauren, as soon as my dad picked up that carrier, he said, 'Christine, what the f-ck is in this thing? This f-cking thing weighs a ton!' I was starting to understand why the husband didn't want me to carry the cat into the house! So anyway, dad picks up this carrier, turns it sideways, and this cat starts oozing out. Lauren, the cat was just coming and coming! There was so much cat, and my dad is yelling at me, like 'What the hell kinda cat is this?' and I'm yelling back that I don't know what the hell this cat is. Anyway, this thing finally comes completely out of the carrier and dad and I are standing there looking at this big fat cat, with just layers and layers of fat and skin hanging all around him." Finally, she stops and takes a breath and looks at me. Then with a big loud laugh, she shrieks, "So that's Big Fatty!" and starts giggling.
I was already in tears, I was laughing so hard at her story. I couldn't believe the details, but I couldn't believe what a good storyteller she was either. She captured the whole scene in such a way that I felt like I was there. And, most of all, I couldn't believe that the seemingly sullen, sourpuss girl from the afternoon had turned into a hilariously cool gal that evening. From that moment on, Christine and I have been close close friends.

It was only years later that she revealed to that she was in a sour mood that day because she was due to have surgery early the following morning, and so she really didn't want to hang out with us that evening. I felt awful; had I known that had been what was going on, I would have been so much more understanding.
For years now, we've referred to each other as sister-in-laws, even when Adam and I weren't married. Christine is one of my closest friends and one of my favorite relatives. So, not to be sappy, but I feel extremely lucky to have a friend as good as Christine, who can make me laugh as hard today as she did that first night. And there's no better person to gossip with about anything and everything.

I love ya, kiddo, and hope this post makes you laugh.

Getting My Move On

So, tomorrow I leave for warm temperatures, warm holidays, and my warm husband. As I wrote previously, I booked a flight out to Virginia to visit Adam for the holiday week. I decided to spoil myself a little bit and really spend some quality time with him there, enjoying the weather and taking the opportunity to see my family, too. Adam is heading out to Michigan for Christmas, so we won't be seeing either of our families for Xmas or New Years' this go round. However, we're hoping to have a spring family gathering after The Fist is born (s/he is the size of a clenched fist now) so our families a) can all see the baby at once, and b) can finally meet each other after 10 years of Adam and I being together. Hmmmmmm...two grandmas and one new grandchild to fight over? This will be interesting...

So, I don't know what my computer access will be like in the week that I'll be gone, but I'll post if/when I can. Otherwise, I'll take pictures and post those and many holiday stories upon my return.

Safe travels to everyone who is travelling, and safe eating to all those who feel the need to stuff themselves. No bursting this year, please.

Michigan Snowfall

It's snowing here in Michigan (surprise, surprise)! As much as we all complain and carry on, it really is so beautiful. Here are a few shots I just took outside my office. The snow has gotten even heavier in the last few minutes and everything is covered in a beautiful down blanket. What a way to welcome in the holiday week!

This Job Is For the Birds

Yesterday, one of the undergraduate technicians came into the lab to tell me that she'd noticed a bunch of dead birds on the ledge outside the 2nd floor window. When I went to inspect, sure enough, there were six Cedar Waxwings lying dead amongst the pebbles on the ledge. Upon closer inspection, the technician realized that there were splatter marks on the window, which indicated all six birds had died on impact. Cedar Waxwings are a colonial (flocking) species; my guess is that they were flying around together, flew into the little alcove above the ledge because it's enclosed and a bit warmer, and slammed into the window. Poor things, they are truly amongst the most beautiful of songbirds. Not that any birds deserve to die (except maybe invasives like Song Sparrows and Starlings), but you know how you sometimes get a little extra sad when the teen who died in the car crash was really striking? You always hear people say, "It's a shame; she was SO beautiful." That's the way it is with these birds. Well, something like that.

Anyway, I left a note for the custodial crew before leaving work yesterday to ask if I could borrow a ladder to access the ledge (the 2nd floor window doesn't open so you have to climb to the ledge from the ground). The curator at the MSU Museum was interested in having the specimens in the bird collection, so I wanted to retrieve them for her. I got a call this afternoon from the custodial supervisor. His first words after introducing himself were, "Is this a joke?" I laughed nervously and assured him that no, it was no joke, I really did want to retrieve some dead birds. He told me he didn't have a ladder tall enough, but that I could call the electrician who should have a ladder to reach the second floor ledge. I called the number he gave me and the electrician said he'd send a guy over to inspect.

I put on my surgical gloves and grabbed some plastic bags and hurried down to the entrance to meet the guy. I was fully expecting a guy carrying a big ladder to show up, but that guy didn't come. About ten minutes later, as I was debating whether to go back to my office and call to make sure someone was on the way, I heard a beeping noise. It took a few seconds to realize what it was. I stepped outside into the snowy cold and saw a big utility truck backing up to lift a hydraulic ladder with a bucket at the end up to the ledge. I asked the guy if I could go up, but he said he wasn't allowed to let anyone in the bucket. I was bummed. I could tell he was excited to go get the birds, though. I saw him climb out of the bucket, round up the six birds and then he rode the basket back down to pass the bag of birds to me. We were both pretty psyched. I thanked him and he grinned. We're both featherbrains, I think.

In other news, I cried in the shower this morning. I cried not because I had to go to work, or because I missed Adam, or because the economy is tanking. Nope, I cried at the thought of the last episode of "Gilmore Girls" where Rory decides to leave Stars Hollow for a permanent job, Lorelei and Luke finally get together for real, and Lorelei and Rory have their final breakfast together at Luke's diner, just like in the last scene of the very first episode. Even now, just writing it, I'm getting teary. I love that show.

Tonight I am breaking tradition. Usually I go every year to Lansing's "Silver Bells in the City" with Adam. We drink cup after cup of free hot chocolate, I run around endlessly looking for a toilet to potty in, we watch the electric light parade go by, I drink more hot chocolate against my better judgement, and we go to all the stores in downtown that stay open late for the occasion. It's been our "thing" for several years now, and we've always loved it. Tonight is "Silver Bells" and Adam is not in town to share it with me. I debated skipping it altogether out of respect for Adam's homesickness, but decided instead to go and have enough fun for the both of us. And I mean that in the most non-selfish way I can. I'm going with a friend and we'll have a good time, drink loads of hot chocolate, take lots of bathroom breaks, and we'll cap the night off with a movie and takeout. Well, it's almost like having Adam here; I just don't know how "lucky" I'll get with her after the movie's over. *smirk*

GOOD NIGHT EVERYONE!

But, Seriously...

Today's a serious post day, everyone. I looked at the frontpage of the local newspaper and saw that a woman I know, from my evening gardening class, has been reported missing for the last 9 days. I had noticed that she hadn't been in class for awhile, but I'd assumed that she had just dropped. So sad and sorry to see that something much graver is occurring.

Her name is Krista Lueth; she is 34 years old, 5'4", 125 lbs, and a horticulture student at MSU. We had a few brief conversations about growing and maintaing a vegetable garden, as well as our respective studies at MSU. She's a nice woman, really intelligent and always quite vocal in class. I wish her a safe homecoming.

Here is the link to the story about her; if you are a Lansing resident, please take a look at her picture in case you've seen her recently. I'm hoping that every little bit can count to bring her home safely.

http://www.lansingstatejournal.com/article/20081120/NEWS01/811200373

Keep her family and friends in your thoughts.

House, MD--"Medical Disaster"

Adam is going to kill me. Well, he might torture me a bit if he doesn't slice me and dice me first.

This morning I had to take Gregory House to the vet for a teeth cleaning. If you haven't met him, you don't know about the atrocious breath he's been sporting since he entered our household. However, his perpetual skin allergies have been so all-consuming that the vet hasn't wanted to subject my poor kitty to yet another medical procedure until that was under control. At the latest visit to the vet (he's been there about 4 or 5 times since we inherited him 6 months ago), I was told that his teeth really needed to be cleaned, and we couldn't wait any longer. I booked the appointment.

I was quoted an obscene amount of money for the cleaning, but figured that it would be a one-time deal, his early Xmas present, so I went with it. House deserves to have a healthy set of chompers, and I deserve to breathe fresh air when I'm around his meow-ing mouth. However, the vet assistant just called me at work with the ever-dreaded, "do you have a few minutes?" I thought for sure she was going to tell me my little boy had died on the table. Just as my tears were starting to well up, she instead informed me that his dentistry is in much worse shape than they thought and several of his teeth would have to be extracted, virtually doubling the original obscene amount. I let her talk, all the while saying to myself, "There is NO way I'm paying for this. This was a stray cat that I took pity on; I am NOT going to break the bank over him." When she finished, I responded in a flat tone, "I can't do it. I've got a baby on the way. Even the original quote was pushing it." She conceded, and said she'd talk further with the doctor to see what he could do.

I hung up feeling only mildly satisfied with my authoritative and command decision. We are saving for the arrival of a baby, after all; I can't throw away good money on this cat.

But then my mind started to wander...to the days of Shabbi and Kika, when we would spare no expense on their health, safety and well-being, when we didn't think of them as "animals" but instead as our family. We dropped tons of money on Shabbi right up till the end of her life. How could I not do the same for my young and vibrant little kitty boy?

I called the clinic back and immediately told the vet assistant to do what needed to be done, that I would pay. When she asked if I were sure, I said "yes, he's my boy and I can't skimp on his health," before I could change my mind. She assured me that since a)he's a stray that I rescued, and b)I've spent so much money on him to this point already, they would try to tap into their kitty fund that would help alleviate some of the cost. That's a bit of a relief. It'll be an even bigger relief when I see my little kid, awake and bouncing around again.

But...I'm hoping that a few days go by before Adam decides to check my blog. And I'll slice and dice ANY of you that tries to tell him first.

Pomp and Circumstance...and Tassels!!!!!!

Tonight I graduate from the Urban Gardening course that I've been taking the last few months. We've covered everything from "What is a plant?" to "How best to fertilize" to "Can you put human feces in your compost bin?" (answer to that last one is a resounding NO!). It's been a very interesting class. **For any Lansing-ites out there who are interested in the course, the Allen Neighborhood Center will be offering it again in February** Now that I'll have graduated, I just have to complete 40 hours of volunteer service staffing the community greenhouse where the course is taught. So far, the staffing has been pretty easy (harvesting basil seeds, conducting a cooking demonstration); I wanted to start getting my staffing hours over with sooner rather than later since my belly will eventually make bending and stooping a little difficult.

Yesterday, I had my first prenatal appointment with a doctor. I got the good ole heist-ya-legs-up-now-scoot-down-okay-gnash-teeth examination. Everything (so far) checked out, and I also got to hear Wee Willie's heartbeat on the Doppler machine. It was clocking a steady 165 beats per minute, fast and strong and good. S/he "swam" around quite a bit, evidently trying to avoid the loud sounds from the Doppler, so the nurse had to move the radar around to find the little tyke. The nurse (Angie, I absolutely adore her) told me she could already see and feel my "baby bump" which I've been looking for for about a week now but can't quite locate. It's like in the prepubescent novel "Are you there God? It's me, Margaret" when the title character (Margaret, not God) is hoping and wishing for breasts that haven't arrived yet. But I figure if Angie can see and feel the bump, it'll only be a matter of time before I will, too.

Several people have asked me how Adam is doing out in Virginia, and he is just fabulous. We speak everyday, and I have to hand it to him, he's being everything that I need him to be in terms of being the geographically-distant-husband-and-father-to-be. He's excited, concerned, caring and misty-voiced at all the right times. He's a little homesick, but they've got him so busy between running several miles every morning and going through classes that he doesn't have a lot of time to think about it. I'm sure that Miss Kika staying with Dad for the next several months will alleviate any sadness he's got, though. I can't wait to spend Thanksgiving week with him and the family, and then Adam will come down this way for Xmas.

So....lots going on. Now I just have to decide where exactly I'll be placing those tassels tonight.

Explanation

I was gently informed last night by my Adam that not everyone "gets" why I've been referring to the baby as Wee Willie. While I of all people should have recognized the potential for dirty jokes at the kid's (or my) expense, I was happily absorbed in memories of one of my favorite childhood nursery rhymes. Wee Willie Winkie is a classic English nursery rhyme about the guy who runs around town (kind of like the town crier) making sure to let parents know that it's bedtime for their kids. I always loved that rhyme, especially because the book that I read it in was published by Disney, so the illustration next to the rhyme was Goofy running around an old English town in his bedclothes (complete with a nightcap!). For anyone who is not familiar with this rhyme, I thought I'd post it here so maybe you, too, can appreciate why I like it. Now imagine a very exasperated Goofy running up and down long flights of stairs and knocking on doors.

Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown,
Tapping at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the children in their bed, for it's past eight o'clock?"

"Hey, Willie Winkie, are you coming in?
The cat is singing purring sounds to the sleeping hen,
The dog's spread out on the floor, and doesn't give a cheep,
But here's a wakeful little boy who will not fall asleep!"

Anything but sleep, you rogue! glowering like the moon,
Rattling in an iron jug with an iron spoon,
Rumbling, tumbling round about, crowing like a cock,
Shrieking like I don't know what, waking sleeping folk.

"Hey, Willie Winkie - the child's in a creel!
Wriggling from everyone's knee like an eel,
Tugging at the cat's ear, and confusing all her thrums
Hey, Willie Winkie - see, there he comes!"

Weary is the mother who has a dusty child,
A small short little child, who can't run on his own,
Who always has a battle with sleep before he'll close an eye
But a kiss from his rosy lips gives strength anew to me.

Mantras, Musings & Medleys

Let's start off with some mantras:

2008 Election: "Yes We Can!" (or, "Si! Se Puede!", or "Ja, Wir Koennen!", or "Da!, Mui Hochum!)

2008 "Little Economy That Could": "I think I can! I think I can!"

1996 Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team: "You can do it! You better do it!" ala Bela Karolyi

Lauren getting up in the morning: "You should do it. You can do it. You need to do it...In thirty more minutes."


Musings:

I've kind of kept my opinions to myself regarding the election, so as to let a little time go by before offending anyone's still-raw battle wounds. However, in true Lauren style, I have no (as Ads would say) "inner monologue" so I'm throwing in my two cents.

As I stated several months ago, I was (and still am) a Hilary Clinton supporter. However, once the primaries started to go the way of Obama, I tentatively got on board the Barack Obama shuttle to "Change." But I kept waiting to hear what that change was going to be. As I contiued to wait, I decided to take a look at John McCain, veteran, POW, statesman, and yes, man-with-at-least-seven-houses. I started to kind of like McCain--he doesn't lean very far to the right, making him more of the centrist that I could live with for a president; he certainly had political experience and military knowledge; and I had always felt bad for the dude who seemed like a regular nice guy who got screwed over by the Bush-Rove campaigning strategies of 2000. I started to think that maybe this would be McCain's year to shine, and that maybe I could get on board with that. I mean, I didn't agree with him on everything--gay marriage, abortion rights, war in Iraq---but I didn't agree with Obama on everything, either. I was definitely in a bit of a quandry in the months before the conventions. But then a huge thing happened that sealed the deal. Actually, TWO huge things happened. McCain, against his own better judgement, picked Sarah Palin as his running mate. Okay, so he's going for the woman vote here, I get that. But the more I heard her talk (or fumble, stumble, ramble, or whatever other nonsensical thing she was doing), the more I couldn't figure why on earth she would have been chosen. It made me really question McCain's judgement, when he had a)Lieberman, his actual first choice, or b) many other qualified, right-leaning female Republicans to choose from. The Palin thing immediately turned me off as a potential supporter; actually, I feel selecting her as a running mate for the Vice Presidency is an affront to all women. We're supposed to be grateful or happy that he selected a woman, even if she can't even conduct an interview, much less be a worthy match during the debates? It was embarassing, only made much more so by Tina Fey's hilarious impressions on SNL. The other huge thing that changed my mind was McCain's political tactics. The same guy who decried the Rove-isms of the 2000 primaries (remember that rumor that McCain had fathered a black child somewhere?) was using the same tactics on Obama. Only he was using Sarah Palin as the "bad cop" to do his dirty work for him. All the "Barack Hussein! Obama" references, exaggerated ties between Obama and Bill Ayers, and lies to the public about Obama wanting sex ed classes for 5-year olds (in actuality, it was a program to keep children from being kidnapped by child predators), not supporting nuclear energy and then implying that Obama is not part of the "real America" (then what the hell am I??); it was too much. I looked at Obama, who while not all puppies and fudge, never sank to the lows that McCain did; there was a certain amount of change about him. And the substance from him that I'd been waiting for came through during the debates, when he not only held his own, but at times blew McCain out of the water. While Obama was talking about real issues, McCain and Palin were still talking about Bill Ayers. By the last two months of the campaign, the choice for me was obvious. Nothing personal, it's just politics.

Medleys:

Weird stories now. First, I had a really weird dream last night that a very parental figure in my life (who shall remain nameless for the sake of my relationship with him/her) performed a lumpectomy on my left breast. I guess I had a benign or malignant lump and it needed to come out. Instead of going to the hospital, however, I allowed this person to do an at-home surgery, and then I went shopping. I started to get worried, though, when I started to notice that my left breast no longer lined up with my right breast. I remember being worried about what Adam would think.

Second weird story; I just heard this at lunch. One of my coworkers was recounting a story about a scientific conference she attended several years ago when she was in her mid-20s. She was just about to give her talk, when she went to the refreshment table to get a cup of coffee. As she was fixing her cup, an older man sidled up next to her and asked her to hold out her hands. When she asked why, he just told her to hold out her hands, so (in the good spirit of science and professionalism) she did. He took her hands and said, "Wow, they are so smooth. I would have expected them to be much more calloused after what I saw you doing on that pole last night." She just looked at him, too stunned by his implication to say anything. She went to give her 20-minute talk, her mind reeling the whole time with the knowledge that some guy had just suggested she was a pole dancer, as if she'd be flattered, despite the fact that she was a successful scientist.

And finally, THANKS. Thanks to all the family and friends who have been reaching out to Adam and me as we go through yet another separation, and the seemingly unpredictable events of my first pregnancy. We are very grateful to everyone for your kindness, thoughtfulness and caring, and we look forward to keeping you all "in the know" as each milestone of the next several months brings more news.

So Thanks. Gracias. Vielen Dank. Spacibo.

Well, Rested

So, this weekend was the sort of weekend I dream about---sleeping in, doing nothing, sleeping some more, making steaming cup after steaming cup of hot chocolate (the milk kind, not water), and then sleeping some more before watching really bad tv. But, despite living out my dream weekend (I tell you, ASOLUTELY NOTHING productive occurred, a true dream), I was pretty bummed. A lot of that sleeping was really my bummed-out response to missing Ads. It was a pretty overwhelming feeling, the amount of aching in my chest knowing that he was gone, far enough away that I couldn't just drive to see him, but close enough that I felt a little whiny and self-absorbed for feeling sorry for myself. So of course, the feelings of guilt just intensified my blue status. *sigh*

I did do a couple of productive things. Friday night I went out on the town with my galpal and super hot chick friend Sarah; she had two tickets to a benefit folk concert, which I was way overdressed for (think miniskirt, silk blouse and knee-high boots in a sea of jeans and t-shirts), but we rocked on. Well, it was folksy, so actually we clapped a lot and snapped our fingers as couples danced by us in a whirlwind, but it was great. Afterward, I took full advantage of my new lease on appetite and hit our local (and very hippie) Fleetwood Diner for some grub. Chowed down on spinach pie, fries and clam chowder, only to find that I had lost my appetite, so I got it all to go, then ran over (per Sarah's late-night insistence) to Schuler's bookstore to find the ultimate in baby name books. We were gleeful and giggly, and it made me a little misty-eyed for the fact that these spur-of-the-moment outings with the gals will come to a close once Wee Willie enters the scene. No doubt s/he will come with a whole new set of adventures that I will love and cherish, but there's just something about your girl time. Sarah promised me, however, that we will still have girl time, just in a whole new way. I'm holding her to it.

Saturday I vegged. I honestly don't really remember much of what I did. I volunteered at the local greenhouse for a couple hours, and picked up some groceries. But Saturday was cruelly and impolitely cold and windy and so I holed up in the house (yes, with hot chocolate). Yesterday was my complete day-of-do-nothing, although I did manage to run out for a crueller (aka twist donut for all you midwesterners) and had brunch with Mrs. Gonzales and Kika. Sunday evening I made a big pot of soup so my potatoes didn't go to waste. So while I was a complete waste this weekend, I wasn't an UTTER and complete waste.

Today is a new day. I have a new lease on life, if not my appetite. Morning (or all-day) sickness has found its way back to my stomach so the big pot of soup that's waiting for me tonight might have to wait a bit longer. However, I did manage to make a command decision in the midst of my blueness this weekend: I am not waiting until Xmas to see my man. So I splurged today and bought a ticket to see him during Thanksgiving. Even better, I splurged even more so that Kika can come with me; I think she'll stay in Virginia with Adam for awhile to give her joints a break from the Michigan cold, to give Adam a break from homesickness, and to give me a break from having two kids to take care of. As my lameness this weekend has proven, it's hard enough for me to take care of me.

To Every Season...

Don't be afraid, it's still the same blog you know. Just thought I'd mix things up a bit now that we're well into fall. Only seemed appropriate; besides, I get sick of things easily and the seaside theme was starting to wear on me.

Happy Friday everyone!

Apols and Oranges

So, apologies to all the friends and family members to whom I have not called, written or otherwise contacted in the last several weeks/months. I could use the "life is so busy" excuse, or the "pregnancy and being alone is leaving me so overwhelmed" excuse, both of which would be true. However, I'll just say that even the idea of picking up the phone to speak to anyone other than Adam, my mother or sister these days has just been too exhausting. Any of my very lovely friends that I need to catch up with would require at least a good two hour conversation to do all of the appropriate catching-up, and I just don't feel it in my bones these days. Sorry.

Oranges are the sweet news for this week, which is that I was offered a promotion at my job! Yeay! My coworker is leaving in a month's time to start a position elsewhere, so my boss needs me to pick up a bit where she is leaving off. This also means, of course, that I will not be leaving Michigan as planned. Adam and I realized that it would be more stressful than necessary for me to try to follow him as the military moves him from Virginia to Georgia over the next few months; besides, once he's in Georgia, he'll be doing field exercises that might keep him away for days at a time, so I might not see him much anyway. Add to that, all the doctors I'd have to transition through and not having any friends...So, I will stay in our nice little house for the duration, surrounded by Mrs. Gonzales ("I'm going to measure your belly every week, girl!") and the motley crew of other wonderful friends we have here in the mitten.

In other news, my sister called me yesterday to ask if I'd be opposed to my baby wearing blue if it turned out to be a girl...does my sister not know me at all?? I then informed her that all the baby clothes that I've received so far are from my friends who have twin boys; therefore, if Ads and I have a girl, she's going to be wearing loads of blue, even if the onesies says "Mommy's Little Boy". Free is free, after all. My sister says I'm going to give the kid a complex. Oh well.

Right, then. I guess that's all for now. Oh, yeah, well, just to brag (like George Castanza did about his parking mojo), I scored really big at Kroger yesterday. I went in to get a bag salad for dinner. I came out over an hour later, loaded down with crazy deals on yogurt, yogurt and more yogurt. Literally, I paid 10 cents for a yogurt cup yesterday. I hope it's not moldy inside.

Election Day Reflection

Call me Sophia Petrillo (look that reference up if you don't get it).

Picture it: November 1980, a small suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. It was a cool, dark evening, sometime after dinner. My parents led my brother, sister and me down the back streets of our neighborhood to a house with a short line waiting outside. Once inside, surroundings were tight and cramped. I kept asking my mother what we were doing there. She kept telling me to hush, that she'd explain later. When we were back outside, on the walk home, I attempted my question one more time. She said, "Your father and I just voted for the next president." I didn't really know what that meant, but since my nickname wasn't Brenda Starr by accident, I decided to ask some follow-up questions. What is voting? What does the president do? Who did they vote for? Getting the answers to these (at the time) monumental questions was a turning point in my childhood understanding of the world. It was just a few weeks later during bathtime that my mother explained to me the idea of a "new year"; it was unfathomable to me that when 1981 hit, 1980 was gone for good.

This morning, 28 years later, I waited in line for over an hour to cast my own secret ballot. I looked around me at all of my neighbors and fellow citizens who were risking a late arrival at work, a missed bus or appointment for the sake of having their vote counted. It was amazing. In the past, Ads and I have waited 5 minutes at the most to pass through the poll booth. This morning, the line wrapped around and still trickled outside the front door. Today had a cool, late-summerish feel to the morning, and most people seemed to be in good spirits as they waited diligently for their turn at the ballot box. I heard a few people echo my thoughts of the pride they felt by the high voter turnout today. Right before leaving my ballot box, I took one last significant look at the ballot and then slipped it into the ballot machine.

So, whatever your affiliation, whoever you cast your vote for, congratulations and many thanks for taking part in this most historic of elections. You did the entire nation some good today.

Rock the vote!