All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

I went to the outlet mall today to pick up some new foundation garments. Things were getting a bit snug in the bosom area, so I thought it was time to go on a little shopping junket. I have important news:

I am now a 36C. Thanks to the baby, I have achieved one of my life goals. No, not motherhood. A C cup. C as in "cowabunga." As in "copious." Woo hoo!

Every silver lining has its cloud though, and I'm afraid I have to admit that I should have set the bar higher. Maybe it's because of my height or something, but a C just isn't as majestic looking as I had always dreamed it would be. Or, my newly ample bosoms are greatly over (under?) shadowed by my vastly ampler belly. Hopefully, the girls will still be looking okay once this is all said and done. I'm not counting on it, but I guess we'll C.

Lately, there are almost always people standing in close proximity to my front yard when I look out the window. They're looking at the next-door neighbor's house. (I can't see the one on the other side to be sure anyone is looking at that house or not.) What is driving me nuts is that the For Sale By Owner sign is awfully close to the property boundary, so I see lots of people standing by the sign and looking back and forth between my house and the one for sale with very confused expressions on their faces. I'm going to have to move the sign about five feet to the east; that's all there is to it.

The dogs were in the backyard earlier and started barking up a storm, which is really, really rare for them. I went to drag them in (because this family isn't having any of the Barking Dog Syndrome), and discovered that there were people in the backyard of the neighboring house. And they had a dog with them, which explained the cacophony. What it didn't explain was one of the women's skunk-striped red and blonde hair. She looked like she had a furry circus tent on her head. Why do people do that to themselves? If you want to look like a freak of nature, dye it all pink or something. You just look like a dipshit with a bad dye job when it's alternating colors like that. Anyway, I don't want them for new neighbors. I couldn't be friendly to someone with hair like that.

I was just reading the latest issue of Real Simple magazine, and there were some tips for cutting down on identity theft. There were some simple internet things you could do (that come in handy for other reasons), and I thought I'd pass them along.

1. Register for the Do Not Call list. This is the federal one; your state may have something different, but it is supposed to get rid of the telemarketers.

2. Opt out of those annoying prescreened credit card offers. This contacts the "Big 3" credit companies and gets them to quit giving your information out to those who want you to sign up for their credit cards.

3. Opt out of advertisers' sharing your internet cookie data here.

Hope this helps. You know you're not up to much else today.

I am so excited! I came home from work tonight, and there was a package sitting on the couch from Malia. I should point out that I've known Malia for a long time, much longer than blogging, but not as long as before the internet. We met on a message board at iVillage quite a few years ago, and there's a whole pack of us that have stuck together. (Other names include Erica, Sherri, Mel, Dee etc.)

So I knew Malia was a knitter. And the "first female punter in the NFL" is growing inside me, and I thought, "Hey, now..." Sure enough, Malia knitted a beautiful baby blanket for Freya! It is so cool, made out of yummy autumnal shades of purple, pink, gold, and red, and it is knitted so densely that you can't see through to your hand on the other side. It will be so warm!

I still have three baby blankets that loving people knitted for my birth. I have been carrying them around with me as treasured parts of my past my entire life. Just knowing that there was someone out there who cared so much about your birth that they would put hours into making a gift to keep you warm...well, it's really special. So Malia, thank you so much. Freya and I will both treasure it always.

I don't really blog about my neighbors. It's a lot like blogging about work--it may be perfectly innocuous, but you've got to be careful that it doesn't come back and bite you in the ass.

But oddly enough, the houses on either side of us are posted For Sale by Owner right now. I'm trying not to feel overly sensitive about it. I swear, I've been trying to get my husband to put pants on when he leaves the house, but he's a slow learner.

Boise is in a rental market glut right now. Tons of houses have been built and then purchased by investors, mainly from California. They put them up for rent, but many of them stand empty for months on end because there are just so many similar places available. A quick mental count comes up with six rentals on our street alone. I'm praying to The Flying Spaghetti Monster (have YOU been saved by the Noodly Appendage?) that serious, non-cracker homeowners purchase the houses on either side of us. Anyone want to relocate? I was just kidding about the no pants thing...

We've decided to hire a doula for our labor and delivery process. I get a lot of folks asking me what a doula is, and the condensed version is that it's generally (almost always) a woman who coaches you through labor. Our particular doula is a coach for both the time leading up to birth and the post-partum period, as well as being there for the actual delivery.

I see it as being a really good resource for both Matt and I. Because I don't have a female relative that I want in labor and delivery with me, and because none of my close girlfriends have had babies of their own (or those who have haven't had normal deliveries), I'd like to have some support there from a woman who knows what is going on. And I think it will be really good for Matt--he's so empathetic, and I know he's going to be really worried and trying to comfort and help me as best he can, but he's going to need some support, too.

I'm really excited about it! And I feel so trendy when I can refer to my doula or my birth coach in casual conversation. How cool am I?

Okay, I realize the post title is a weak pun, at best. If you're looking for any historical information about China, I suggest you keep moving through here.

That said, the baby, she seems to be some kind of disciple of Billy Blanks' Tae Bo series. (Who knew she even had a VCR in there?) The little crumb has been whaling the tar out of me for the last couple of weeks. It's cute right now, when she's only weighing about 12 ounces and measuring seven inches or so. But when she's a hefty eight-pounder (let's all pray to God she's out by the time she gets that big), it won't be so cute any more. She socked me in the kidney the other night as I was walking back from the bathroom, and I could hardly stand up straight.

My not-overly-sympathetic sister in law said, "Wait until she kicks you in the cervix!" What the hell is that all about?

I was just checking my website stats, mainly looking for interesting key-words. I came across an odd one from IP address 209.206.254.96 out of Lakeview, OR. The search was "Looking for a woman to f*ck in Lakeview, Oregon." Having been to Lakeview, Oregon, I would say I'm not too surprised. Not a lot going on in Lakeview--I think many a lonely eye has turned toward the livestock there on quite a few occasions.

But hey, buddy, in case you stopped by my site and read up on my last summer vacation post where we drove home through Lakeview, and you decided to come back for a visit, here's a pointer or two for you:

Try a little tenderness. Your rampant horniness is more than evident in the way you phrased your Google search, and perhaps that's scaring the ladies of Lakeview off. Try a search for, "Looking for romance in Lakeview, Oregon."

And what's the population there, anyway? A couple thousand? So odds are that you're going to know all the women in town to begin with. Just ask one, if it's that big a deal to you. What exactly do you think the internet is going to be able to accomplish for you that you can't do yourself?

Anyway, I've wasted enough of my sage advice, I'm sure. My best suggestion is that you look up Rosie Palm and her five daughters, if you know what I'm saying. And work on your social skills in the meantime. Oh, and don't forget to wash your hands.

Your friendly blogger,
Casey

I was uploading a couple of baby pictures of Matt and I for something else, and figured I'd post them for you guys. Here's me:

And here's Matt:

I'd like to point out that he had bright red ringlets as a baby. So those are the genes behind little Freya. I'm really wondering if she'll be blonde or a redhead...

This is the baby in profile. Cute, eh? And thanks to all for the well-wishes--Roscoe is indeed healthy, and all the requisite organs, limbs, etc. are in-place and well formed.

Now I know some people like to be surprised by the baby's gender. So I'll put that information in the extended entry, just in case you're one of those weirdos. (You know you're going to look.)

Continue reading "Wanna See Our Baby?"

Tomorrow (Thursday) is our "big" ultrasound. Provided Roscoe is cooperative, we'll finally learn whether we're having a girl baby or a boy baby.

The household is divided on the issue. I am absolutely positive that it's a girl. This is based on many things, but primarily mother's intuition. Matt is not quite as certain, but he thinks we're having a boy. I think that's mainly based on hope. He's got a mental image of taking a little Mini-Matt out fishing, teaching him to play catch, etc. However, you never hear people say, "Oh, he's a real Daddy's boy." Oh no. It's always Daddy's girl. Always.

I strongly suspect if we're having a little girl, Matt will end up firmly wrapped around her finger. I'm anticipating that to occur within about five seconds of the "It's a girl" announcement.

One way or another, I'll let you all know and will post a picture. Wish us luck for a healthy baby!

Tell me what 1970's action movie celebrity you think this baby looks like. Do me a favor and go to the comments and post your opinion before you open up the extended entry and see who I think the baby looks like.

If you're stymied, try picturing him with a dark moustache the length of his upper lip.

Continue reading "I Hope This Isn't Bad Karma"

The ice cream truck just passed our house, and as all ice cream trucks do, it was playing a tinkly little song.

"We Wish You a Merry Christmas"

What's wrong with this picture?

Hoo boy, the hormones are large and in charge this week. Virtually any level of conflict is sending me into a tail-spin. In fact, I left work yesterday at noon because I figured if someone said the wrong thing to me, I'd either have a hissy fit or start sobbing. I hate that out of control feeling that a bad case of the hormones can give you.

I ended up going to Barnes & Noble for a couple of hours, then over to World Market. I still hadn't settled down by the time I got home, so I had a fight with my husband, sobbed for thirty minutes, then fell asleep in a chair on our patio. We made nice, then took a nap. Today is better, but I'm not making anyone any promises.

I have a theory behind what's doing it. I'm in Week 19 right now, which is when Roscoe's sex organs are becoming fully developed. If Roscoe is a girl, her uterus and eggs are forming. The equivalent organs (gonads?) are coming together if Roscoe is a boy. The external genitalia are evident at this point, but all the inside stuff is going on. My thought is that I've got a giant hormone push going in order to create this stuff, and it's having some unholy effects on my moods.

Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

Erica had posted this and I figured I'd hop on the old meme bandwagon. I present to you The Five Quirks of Me:

1. I shave my legs every single day. Unless I am camping, but then I have a rule that I must be allowed access to a shower every second day, mainly so that I can shave my legs. The prickly little outgrowth drives me mad.

Note: thinking up five things is going to be hard

2. I do not say the Pledge of Allegiance. I'll stand, I'll put my hand over my heart, but I will not say the Pledge. It started because of my Jehovah's Witness background, but even after leaving all that behind, I won't pledge allegiance to pretty much anything. I'm not a blind faith kind of girl; that's why I got away from religion in the first place.

3. I know all 44 counties in Idaho by heart in alphabetical order.

4. I always fall asleep on my right side.

5. If I am on a collision-course path with someone obviously younger than me who is not either on crutches or carrying a small child, I will not move. I'm their by-God elder, and I am not going to yield my right of way to some whippersnapper without any manners.

I haven't blogged about the hurricane yet. For one thing, I figure you all (much like myself) get plenty of that action elsewhere. I've seen some good writing on it, and a lot of interesting information is out there.

Being the skeptic I am, though, I can't really be sure of what to believe. I hear reports that the delay in getting aid to the victims was because Bush was on vacation. I heard Hilary talking this morning about how she was calling for an independent investigation of the government's delayed response. I hear a lot of people who seem to be stepping up and using the natural disaster as a platform for their own personal crusades, few of which have anything to do with preparation for natural disasters, helping the impoverished of the U.S., or even ensuring a return to relative normalcy in the hurricane-struck areas. I just hear a lot of people spouting blame.

It seems like that's quite a human response. Something terrible happens, and you look around for someone to pin it on. No one is exempt: anyone ever heard the phrase, "Act of God"? In fact, it seems to me that the desire to lay fault is as innate in many people as the desire to believe that this life isn't all there is. I suppose it's possible that the two things are tied together at some inherent level.

I reckon I am just rambling at this point. My intent isn't to sweep anyone's omissions under the rug. I think we're all pretty aware that I'm not a fan of this administration by any stretch. But I don't know how you can lay blame for absolutely everything. Sooner or later, even America is struck by something that simply cannot be averted. It was a tsunami for those in southwest Asia last Christmas; it's a hurricane in the southern United States; the next thing may be an unprecedented earthquake in France. Who knows?

I just...I don't know. I'm so sick of the vitriol. It never helps anyone.

I know I've mentioned using Freecycle to get rid of stuff before. It's so easy--you look around your garage or whatever, and think that you'd really like to get rid of that thingy that's been sitting there in the corner unused for months. Should you throw it away? Well, there's still some use in it. So you go over to Freecycle, post that you have this thingy you want to get rid of, then wait for the e-mails to roll in from people who are willing to come pick it up and take it off your hands. The only caveat is that your item must be free and no strings at all can be attached.

We ended up buying a new surround sound system today, since our piece of crap Pioneer DVD/CD/Receiver crapped out on us after two years of ownership. And you can't just go out and buy a new receiver and keep all the speakers. Oh no...you've got to replace the whole freaking system. So Matt asked me if I'd post it to Freecycle, and I ended up getting a total of 10 e-mails in 30 minutes from people willing to come get the old one. How cool is that?

While we were at the Mega Furniture Box this morning, Matt and I looked at buying a crib. I can't believe the biggest furniture store in town (and you Boise people know where I'm talking about) had a grand total of four cribs available for sale. Looks like we'll be heading to Babies R' Us to get Roscoe his/her sleeping arrangement. The big ultrasound is a week from this Thursday, and I think I'll be getting itchy to start stocking up the nursery once we know for sure what kind of critter we're dealing with.

I've blogged about my Wicked Future Step-Sister before (see entry titled "Stuffed"). Because of my dad's complicated engagement situation with her mother, the WFSS has been faithfully serving in her role of persistant annoyance for oh, let's see, probably seven years or so now.

I should preface this little episode by mentioning that my dad and I share a savings account, mainly so that I can get senior citizen interest rates, but also because it is sometimes handy for he and I to exchange money online. (I owe him some cash.)

So I got a letter from the bank addressed to him the other day. I figured it was to do with the joint account, but I hate opening other people's mail, so I called him this morning. He told me to go ahead and open it. Inside was a cancelled check for $66 from the WFSS and a note from the bank saying that there were insufficient funds to cash the check, plus a $5 account handling charged had been assessed against this particular account he and I share. (Presumably it is the first of the accounts bearing his name numerically at this bank or something, so it withdrew the funds from that one.)

I figured the laugh was worth $5 alone, so I wasn't too put out about it. I mean, it's more proof of what a chronic fuck-up she is, and I always enjoy that. After I got off the phone with Dad, though, I checked my account online, then looked closer at the bank statement. Dad had cashed the check and pocketed the money. The bank wasn't going to front the WFSS $66 bucks, so it looked around for one of Dad's accounts, found mine and pulled the money out. Suddenly, the amusing little fuck-up was costing me $71. Not funny.

Dad is coming by in the morning to pick up the bank stuff. He's also bringing me $71. And you know, he has the nerve to sound put out with me! I didn't bounce the check, dude.

I just slept for twelve solid hours. I'm guessing I won't have many similar opportunities for oh, say the next 20 years or so.

I just got done watching "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." I'd been wanting to see it for quite a while, and it wound up being on one of the premium channels just as Matt was leaving to go patrol for a few hours.

By the end of the two hours, I was bawling like a baby. A certain amount of it is hormones, but the rest of it was because it was really quite a concept for a story. Would you erase someone from your memory if you could?

Before watching the movie, I'd have said yes. Having watched it, I've changed my mind. I think we forget the good stuff and how well worth it it is. I guess there's not a whole lot else that I really would want to say detail-wise, but maybe knowing that all of our bad experiences are worthwhile in exchange for the good ones is enough.

And was this all oblique and obscure enough for you? Oh, good.