Happy Purim!

Adam and I have both been itching for some really good hamantaschen. Oh? You're not familiar with this delectable treat? Really? Well! Let me fill you in!

Hamantaschen are little (or great big) triangular-shaped cookies, with a little 'pocket' in the middle, where fruit preserves, chocolate, nuts, etc are filled in. But it's not really the middle that counts--it's the cookie itself. Dense, cakey, crumbly, with hints of lemon and orange...my, my, it's orgasmic. It really is. Hamantaschen are the traditional cookie of the Jewish holiday Purim.




Large and attractive, small and cute, or tiny and messy, hamantaschen are yummy whatever they look like! My favorite fillings are apricot and prune, but you can find raspberry, chocolate, poppyseed (yech!), walnut, and even cream cheese!

My favorite hamantaschen come from a Jewish bakery in Queens, NY, called Beigels (sp??) that our friend Michael works at from time to time. Whenever we visit New York, we always make a mental note to drop by and pick up some (or Michael surprises us with a box). Luckily, Beigels' makes hamantaschen pretty much yearround, so whenever we're in Queens, we're able to stock up.

Unfortunately, the Jewish bakery presence in Lansing is not quite what it is in NYC, so we've been at a loss the last several years in trying to find our favorite cookies. Today, while e-mailing with my friend Mara, I found out that our local food co-op sells them in cooperation with the Jewish deli/bakery out of Ann Arbor, Zingerman's. I popped over to the co-op after work today and (with Adam on the phone) literally cried out in delight as I found ten large cookies left. I bought them all. When I asked Ads if I were being greedy, and should maybe save some for others, he said, "No, they should have gotten there sooner!" I think his Scrooge-ishness was due to the fact that I've already promised to ship him a few of the cookies I bought.

Happy (belated) Purim, everyone! Greg House just tried to nab some hamantaschen out of the cookie jar...I'd better go eat one or two so that he can't get to them.

Nancy Drew and the Case of the Stolen Crackers

I arrived home from work today to find utter chaos at my house. Cupboard doors were open, papers were strewn everywhere, and my little dog, Kika, seeemed out of sorts. Not to mention, my favorite crackers had gone missing! I immediately called my best friends, Bess and George, and my boyfriend, Ned, to come over to help crack the case.
Once they arrived, George started taking photographic evidence, while Ned and I interviewed the suspects. Bess examined the cracker crumbs for any physical evidence.
After about five minutes of thorough investigation, we realized the case was solved. Here are the photos that George took; see if you can solve the case of the missing crackers for yourself!

The Evidence...





The Motive...



The Suspects...




The Smoking Gun...

Welcome To The World, Leah Jordan!

The first of my pregnancy-buddies has given birth. My friend Heather delivered her baby girl, Leah Jordan, last night. Leah was a big, healthy, bouncing baby, and I'm sure her parents couldn't be more happy.

Congratulations Heather and Scott, and welcome to the world, little Leah!

I Want Your Sex

Adam and I had an interesting discussion today about something that I've wondered about for a long time, but have pondered even moreso now that I'm pregnant.

What's the big deal about SEX???? I'll even bet that the title to this post threw most of you a bit, am I right?

Considering the only way any of us are here on this earth is because two people "did it" (barring assisted fertilization methods, religious beliefs of immaculate conceptions, and horror movies), it's hard to understand why sex is such a taboo subject. Most people have it, no one would be here on earth without it, and it ain't going anywhere.

However, we continue to giggle sheepishly when sex is mentioned in mixed company, frown because it's an "inappropriate" subject to bring up in most social situations, and even pretend that a pregnant woman somehow just got in that "condition" by being a nice girl and clicking her heels together three times. We all know a good roll in the hay was involved, people!

Personally, I think sex is funny. It looks pretty ridiculous (okay, with the exception of Angelina Jolie doing it on the big screen), is hot and sweaty, and is (in my book, at least) equivalent to someone taking a poo (everyday function, noises are made, and it's a bit messy). Guess that's why sex jokes and potty humor go hand-in-hand for me. My favorite sex references are "bumpin' uglies", "shakin' the sheets", and "the mattress mambo."

Adam says the fact that sex is "fun, pleasurable and a great stress reliever" are all reasons that it's so taboo. Isn't poo-ing a good stress reliever, too, though? I always feel better after a good visit to the toilet. Okay, but do I take pleasure in it--well, no...but...

Anyone who knows me probably thinks it amusing that I'm asking "what's the big deal about sex"? After all, I talk about it all the time, make joking references to it, and amongst close friends, am not hesitant to discuss its finer points. But isn't that the point? I feel comfortable talking about it because it really isn't that big of a deal to me; just one of these natural things that we all know about, and most of us participate in, but no one likes to talk about. In fact, the only reason I shut up about it is because I know other people are uncomfortable talking about the subject. I love talking about it about as much as I love a good "woman in the stall next to me was grunting while pushing out a poo" story. But that's just me, I guess.

Anyway, that's my two cents on the subject. I'm off to la-la land now to go have some pleasant dreams...interpret that any way you want.

Luck Be A Lady

Wow, I must have stepped on some dog poo and not known it, because it seems as though my luck has been turning around lately. Not only is the weather getting nicer (in the 50s this weekend, replacing the barely-above-zero-degree weather we've been bracing all week), but I've got not one, but TWO visitors coming from out of town to pay me a visit in the next month.

My mother had suggested a visit out to MI pretty much as soon as she heard the word "pregnant" six months ago. She had no shame in being candid about the fact that "with a grandchild in the picture, I'll come visit you and Adam wherever you live!" Wow, had I known all it took was a baby to get her out here, maybe I would've done this whole pregnancy bit years ago...
So she arrives in a week and a half, and I can hardly wait. We're going to do a spa day at the local salon, take a trip to Ann Arbor for some yummy ethnic food, and generally bum around my house (I promise it will be clean before you arrive, Mum!)
In any case, I've talked my mother up enough over the years that my local friends are itchin' to meet her. I'm trying to think of the best way to have everyone meet her at once (good thing she's not overly shy); so it looks like a small party is in order! Geez, whenever I say small, it always turns into a big to-do, but after all, it's my mother, and after all, it's my friends, so what the hell? I'd just better keep the booze locked up in case any crashers arrive. Although, Mum likes booze...(there's a good reason I'm her daughter!)

I just got an e-mail a few days ago from one of my oldest childhood friends, and she's offered to fly into MI to visit me in April, before Adam returns. That was such a nice surprise, highly unexpected. She is my baking and drinking buddy; every Xmas, we have a bake-a-thon where we make selected gooey baked goods for our holiday delight. Since I was in Michigan this past Xmas, we missed our annual drink-and-get-happy-while-not-burning-the-pie event, but I'm intent on making up for it during her April visit (sans the drinking for me, though). By April, I'll be big as a 2-family house so I'm not even going to think about putting the brakes on my dessert consumption. After all, I'll be making up for what I missed out on during the holidays.

I finally heard from my soldier last night. He called, tired and sore after having slept outside, sans tent, in cold, snowy conditions. Yep, it snowed in Georgia, too. Anyway, "slept" is a misnomer, because he said between the shivering cold that kept him awake, and the constant simulated IED blasts that forced him to get up and run every hour or so, very little sleep was actually achieved. One of his comrades whispered in his ear, "Only 50 more days of this..." so at least they all know there is an end in sight. He was a sweetheart last night, staying up way past his bedtime to talk to me even though he had to be up by 5am this morning to report for PT. Tomorrow he graduates (there's a ceremony and everything--the military is all about ceremonies, just like the Catholic Church) from this second phase of his training, and then after this weekend he's off to the last phase of it all. That's when his butt is really going to get kicked--constant field training, shared accomodations and no weekends off. We are expecting to have very limited communication this last 1 1/2 months. I'm bummed, especially now that I'm so far into the pregnancy, I fear I won't be able to contact him if I need to. But we'll leave it to the cosmos and hope for the best.

Just so you don't think I've forgotten, luck can take on the bad side, too. Remember that dog poo I must've stepped on (a sign of good luck?) Well, evidently some of it never made it under my foot--last night Kika poo'd twice in the house when I had my back turned and ate it both times. Then she burped. Yeah. Gotta balance out all that good luck, ya know.

Running on Empty

Today I'm writing simply because I've run out of other things to do (don't tell my boss that, though). So, I'm writing on the blog just to keep up the pretense of being busy. There's not that much to report, so I'll just go over a few of the more mundane things that have occurred in the last couple days and call that a blog post. Sorry if it bores you...

First off, Adam and I celebrated our 10th anniversary on 28 February. I had gone to dinner at a friend's house, but excused myself fairly early so that I could hightail it home for a "phone date night" with the hubby. Adam was at the tail end of "Slum Dog Millionaire", which he loved, so I had a little time to take care of the animal kids before my date arrived (aka, called me back). It was nice to just talk about the future and some of the bigger issues that we haven't had the time or energy to discuss in the past few months. Friends later accused me of having raunchy phone conversation with Adam (which I'll neither confirm nor deny) since "any other kind of call is just conversation, not a phone date!" (as per the Peanut Gallery). Really, it was just nice to talk, not about everyday happenings, but about real, deep meaningful things. I enjoyed our anniversary.

The following day would have been our first wedding anniversary, that is, if there had been a 29 February this year. So we "sort of" acknowledged it on 1 March. It was pretty anti-climactic, but that was okay, considering the decade anniversary the day before. I still can't believe I've spent a third of my life with this man. Sometimes I still think of him and am shocked that he exists, that we're together, that we're married, and expecting a child. I think sometimes I still forget how old I am.

I took the kids to my regular vet clinic this past weekend (car did not break down this time) but unfortunately my favorite vet was not there. So, I had to meet with the Brumhilde of the veterinary trade instead, and got the following synopsis: Kika is underweight (down to 10.5 lbs!) and needs to "eat a sammich!"; Greg House is a mess (duh!), but she did agree with me that it might be a food allergy (take that cat doctor!), so we have now started him on some ultra-pricey protein-sensitive cat food. He eats just about anything he can get his toothless little mouth around so he's already laid into the new food. Kika is still trying to scavenge his food scraps even though she's getting healthier portions of her own food. She ate a whole banana with her kibble for dinner yesterday. What a little Chiquita.

Baby Mittman is putting on a show. Last night I looked down and could see my belly making little bulging movements everytime baby kicked. I called my mother right away (Adam is away doing field training so he is incommunicado at the moment). Mum really thinks baby will come sooner than the due date. I am frightened by the prospect, as I want to know that Adam will be home by the time s/he arrives.

Today is the first day of my last trimester. We're in the 7th Inning Stretch now, folks. Time to get up and sing.

Insane In The Membrane

My so-called Invincible Woman status is gone. I've been sick all week with some type of mild upper respiratory infection (is there a such thing as a lower respiratory infection?? You never hear about those...). I started having dodgy breathing patterns two Fridays ago, and by last weekend, I could barely struggle a full breath into my poor lungs. I even called out sick last Monday so I could high-tail it to the doctor's office.

I was diagnosed with some gobbledy-gook medical term that I didn't quite understand, and the good doc prescribed some antibiotics and a (we-think-it's-safe-for-the-baby) inhaler. Uh-uh. No way I'm pumping my body full of drugs if I've only got a mild infection. After all, I'm the same woman who has been around extreme sickness for the last several months without even issuing a cough. I can beat this thing with my own superior immune system. Surely.

Not so much. My lung membranes are seemingly lined with mucus, and I'm constantly a-hem-ming to clear my chest cavity out so I can breathe normally. The constant use of the space heater in my room at night led to four nosebleeds in a two-day period. My sore, aching body craves a warm bath every single time I visit the bathroom. My state of being right now is pretty sad, but for the 2-Benadryls-a-day I've been popping to keep the congestion under control. Thank goodness for those tiny pink pills. And yes, they are (they-think) safe for baby.

It's not quite 10pm yet, and just the mention of a warm bath has made me happily consider it. I think I deserve one, considering the back pain and sore stomach muscles (oh right! and lack of breathing!) I've been putting up with. And I decided to go ahead and get that prescription filled today, too, since my body has not yet fought off whatever ails me. But, seeing as everything else is failing me these days, it only figures that I'm also insane in the brain...I left the prescription inside the rental car I returned last week.