Monday, November 26, 2007

Every Sight And Every Sound

Last night I watched Die Hard with Dan because he claimed it was, like, his favorite movie of all time.

Afterwards, I decided I enjoyed it as much as the James Bond franchise. However, it wasn't as satisfying as Bourne movies, which of course star Matt Damon, who is officially People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive.

“So it makes your top ten,” Dan said, back to Bruce Willis.

“Well, it beats out Pitch Black for sure," I conceded. Pitch Black is a truly repugnant offering of the supernatural-horror-thriller-action variety.

And, believe it or not, watching that Vin Diesel vehicle was the high point of what was an exceptionally terrible evening back in 2000, an evening which included dinner at Hooters.

“Come on,” Dan said, “That was a great date. If you can think of a greater date than Hooters and Pitch Black, I’d like to hear it.”

And then I threw up in the sink due to an unfortunate combination of nausea and too much laughter.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

People Might Not Like That Their Dress Has Been Spit On

After watching the preview videos posted at Blogging Project Runway, I'm ready to pick Rami as the winner of the next challenge.

The previews didn't really show anything about the potential winners, but... I'm going with it. There was some potential drama and intrigue you might want to check out, though.

For the contest, if you're already on the scoreboard, you don't pick any losers this week or next. You go with the three you originally chose. You get three points if any of your three get kicked off in the next two episodes. You do get to pick a winner for this week's episode, though; and if you're right, you get one bonus point.

If you still want to play and you haven't started yet, you can post guesses for the next two designers auf'd. You get one point for each correct guess.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

I Want To Imbibe It With Energy and Essence

At the end of my pregnancy with Shef, I was undeniably huge. Most people would try to say nice, placating things about how I looked. But since I owned a mirror and could see that I had a blotchy rash on my face, size E or F breasts that rested on my belly, and was clearly bulging out of my second size of maternity jeans; I knew they were full of it.

Luckily, I could always count on Mom for a dose of reality.

“Can you even fit in your car?” she asked one day around 37 weeks. “I mean, I can’t believe you could even get behind the wheel.”

This Thanksgiving, Mom told me I looked lovely, which was nice. And she gave me a present: two pairs of supremely comfortable fleece pajamas. They’re really terrific, and in fact, I’m wearing some right now.

“I got one large and one extra large,” Mom explained, as she handed me the bag. “Because let’s be honest, we know that’s where you're headed.”

I nodded. There’s just no escaping it.

“I didn’t even bother with medium,” she continued, “because really, what’s the sense.”

Friday, November 23, 2007

Your Look Left Us Very Sad

This is really strange: a squirrel just came up to my back door, knocked on it, looked at me through the glass panel, chewed the apple or whatever was in its mouth, stared at me for maybe thirty seconds, and then just when I was starting to get really really weirded out, ran away.

Also, just to accommodate my two Thanksgiving feasts, I broke out the maternity clothes yesterday. I think now that we’re entering the second trimester, there’s really no turning back.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Wear Your Hair Just For Him

Me: I just wish I had less gas.

Dan: Yeah. I've been wishing that for years.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Ain't Too Proud To Beg

The last few days have been kind of rough, pregnancy-wise. I have some kind of cold with sinus congestion and cough, which has totally ratcheted up the level of nausea I’m experiencing. I’ve also had digestive woes, the details of which I will spare you. And, just for good measure, I sprouted a monster zit just below my bottom lip on the right side.

Given this state of affairs, I’ve been sleeping a lot. And when I haven’t been sleeping, I’ve been whining. And Dan, in the face of this set-back, has been a model of patience and servitude. That is, until last night when I ran him right up to his limit.

We were lounging on the loveseat, watching Chalk, which was way less funny than it could have been, when I dumped my legs into Dan’s lap and asked plaintively if he could just rub them a little bit. I modeled the technique I was hoping for – a moderately firm kneading of the calf. He obliged, with only minimal eye-rolling.

Then, I complained about my stomach upset and headache. He made sympathetic noises and engaged in more vigorous leg-rubbing.

Finally, my eyes started watering, and I poked frantically at my nose with the kleenex I’d been carrying all evening. Something about the congestion had shifted.

“Ugh!" I cried. "I have boogers in my nose that are hurting my nose."

“Look,” Dan said, frankly, halting the kneading and giving me a stern look. “I have sympathy for a lot of your pregnancy symptoms, but ‘the boogers in my nose are hurting my nose’ is not one of them.”

Okay, I thought, tears still streaming. Fair enough.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

My Jury Duty Was Complete As of Three O'Clock This Afternoon

The sad part is that I’m sure I would have made an excellent juror. I would have been fair, and I would have weighed the evidence carefully.

But none of the attorneys ever asked me any questions.

I didn’t get picked for any juries.

I think it's too bad for those charged with armed robberies and solicitation. I would have been a very nonjudgmental. I would have tried to see their sides of the situations.

I was actually considering volunteering to stay on jury duty a little longer, just to give the courts and criminals the benefit of my excellent reasoning skills.

But, in the end, that seemed a little silly, even to me.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Did You Watch?

I hope so. If not, it's lucky for you that Bravo likes to replay episodes of their reality shows like nobody's business.

Once you've watched, join the challenge! It's going to be fun, and I've already purchased a fabulous prize. The prize is real this year (sorry about last time, Judy and Dan). Post your guesses for the next three Auf'd in comments. Bonus for next week if you pick the winner of the challenge.


Monday, November 12, 2007

Jury Duty Starts Tomorrow

I worked myself up into a minor frenzy after Trusted Doc couldn’t find the heartbeat of the fetus this morning.

“It’s no reason to panic,” she said cheerfully. “It’s early, and it depends on how the uterus is tipped.”

I smiled tentatively.

“Normally, we’d just grab the ultrasound, but since you have an appointment for that this afternoon, we’ll just wait till then.”

Okay. Fine.

I took a deep breath and tried to go back to the happy moment, just ten minutes earlier, when I stepped on the scale to discover that I’d overshot my weight-gain estimate by seven pounds.

“It’s a miracle!” I told the nurse, who was more or less unphased by my temporary euphoria.

Luckily, when we went back for the ultrasound appointment, we discovered that the reason TD couldn’t find the heartbeat is that the fetus is hyperactive. Hyperactive and super huge. It’s growing fast. Every time they look at it, the due date gets closer and closer.

I would have had to call TD tomorrow to ask whether I should worry that the baby is growing too quickly, but luckily I remembered to chat about that with the ultrasound tech this afternoon after I was finished with my blood work.

“Because God forbid you’d leave the office without something to worry about,” Dan said, as the ultrasound tech’s laughter was ringing in our ears.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Dah Who Dor-Aze

“I want to put up our Christmas decorations right away!” blurted Shef from the backseat on the way home from dinner.

“We’ll do it on December 1st,” I said. Dan snickered a little, presumably since the earliest we’ve decorated for the holiday in our life together is maybe December 20th. We’re usually the last ones at the tree lot, perusing the picked-over selection of Charlie Brown offerings. “Well,” I explained, “we have the advent calendar this year. Plus he’s really into it.”

And he is. I’ve already exhumed the Santa Bear from the basement.

“Fine,” Dan conceded. “Just don’t even say anything about a F-A-K-E T-R-E-E.”

“W-H-Y?” I asked. I always had an artificial tree growing up, and I never felt deprived. I’ve often suggested we get one, only to subject myself to much ridicule and exasperation from my loving lifemate.

Dan predictably rolled his eyes. “Because then why don’t you just P-I-S-S on C-H-R-I-S-T,” he spat.

And so, oh-kay, it appears we’ll be watering copiously and vacuuming up nettles again this year.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Starting Him Young

So, Dan had more trouble finding a Dale hat in North Carolina than he expected. It turns out there aren't NASCAR-themed stores on every corner, even there. So, finally, in the airport, minutes before flying home, he purchased the cap pictured above in a last-ditch effort not to disappoint the family. We all really expected him to deliver the final piece of the costume, and he likes to pull through.

So yesterday, when Shef's teacher told the class the letter of the week was B and asked if anyone knew any words beginning with B; Shef shot his hand into the air and yelled, "Budweiser!" Which is, obviously, a correct answer.

"Oh yeah," I said apologetically when Teacher Dawn related the story to me tonight at the school's spaghetti dinner. "Well. That's Dale Earnhardt's sponsor."

I thought that was enough of an explanation, but Dawn keep nodding at me like I might have something more to add.

"Just another example of good parenting," I smiled. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Monday, November 5, 2007

Let the Public Whining Commence

Shef and I are pretty excited about his impending big brotherhood. We've both wanted to add to our family for awhile now, so the joy we feel is great.

Of course, even though I am grateful and happy, I’ve also been a miserable disaster. I feel sick, I’m already fat, my boobs are bursting out of 95% of the shirts I own, and of course, my hypochondria is in full effect.

It’s not like I’d forgotten how much I hate pregnancy in the four years since I've done it, but god, I really, really hate it.

I told Rachel that this nine-month odyssey is the equivalent of my trek to the top of the black and scary mountain to drop the ring into the fiery pit.

Sometimes, when I’m being extra pathetic, Dan calls me a “brave little soldier.” Let’s just make one thing clear from the outset: I have no intention toughing any portion of this out.