When you're a teacher, you get a school picture packet like the kids do. You don't have to pay. The picture company just sends you an envelope with a 5x7 and several wallets.

Sometimes if the picture was good, I'd send a photo of myself to my mother. Because what else are you supposed to do with multiple school-style headshots when you're a full-fledged grown-up?

Also, most years, regardless of the quality of the photo and sometimes especially if it was bad, I would cut up the wallets, sign the backs ("Stay Super Sweet!" or "BFF!") and give them out to my friends. I did this in an ironic sort of way. Like, I knew it was funny to give out school photos when I was actually 27 or 33 or 41. People laughed. My school friends would cut up their own photos, give me 2x3s, and I'd put them on the bulletin board behind my desk.

I bring this up because it occurred to me the other night that handing people copies of my novel feels sort of like handing out school photos. Except unironically, but also uncomfortably. You hand a friend a book, and you're asking, Would you like a copy of something I did? Would you like to stare at it indefinitely? Would you like to spend eight hours with it and then have to pretend that you liked it? And, should I sign my name in the front? #BFF?

I'm looking forward to feeling less awkward about this. How long do you think it will take?

I read several teaching and education-related blogs and Twitter feeds. One of my new favorites is Mind/Shift. The blog curates a lot of interesting ed-tech news.

One thing I'm especially interested in is figuring out ways to harness mobile devices. Mind/Shift had an article on this recently. A highlight of the article is the little blurb on "Snack Learning." If you think about it, a 50-minute class period is rather snack-like.

Today on my mobile device (in this case, my laptop, which isn't quite as mobile as my phone or my iPad), I solved a work problem. My new boss (she seems so fabulous, fyi) asked for a head shot-type photo of me. I took one quick with my webcam and emailed it to her. "This is as good as it gets," I told her.



Never mind the zit on my chin. You can't hardly notice it, right?!

It will come to no surprise to any of you that I always try to look my best for my darling husband. Like, I comb my hair, apply concealer to my under-eye circles, wear attractive lounge wear, and bathe. I also try to impress him with my ingenuity, which is quite difficult to do, seeing as he can beat me easily at Scrabble and is better at Sudoku.

My efforts, though. The fact I TRY. That's what's really important.

I think I was especially successful last night, which is why he ran for the camera when I used my huge belly as a snack tray WHILE wearing a totally chic t-shirt. So CLEVER!



And obviously, so incredibly good looking.

Morale at the work site has been pretty low of late. I'm not going to lie: some days I enter the school building with a bit of dread in my heart.

My refuge is crashing on the couch after Shef goes to bed, watching American Idol or Masterpiece Theater or my favorite, Project Runway.

Fashion hasn't been a priority during this activity; but I'm thinking maybe I should put a little more effort into my evening-time appearance, since last night, Dan burst into guffaws and ran for the camera when he found me looking like this:



Yes, that's a regular non-maternity size-medium t-shirt. Indeed, it's paired with regular non-maternity size-large fleece pants pulled up over my definitely maternity-sized belly. And yes, those are Valentine's socks. And yes, I'm laughing so hard at how ridiculous I must look that I'm pretty much just trying my best not to pee in my pants.

I have a weigh-in at the doctor tomorrow, and I'm sure from the looks of things that it will be a sobering experience.

I've been missing wine a lot more this pregnancy. I think last time I was all, Wow! This is so cool! I'm with child.

This time it's more like, damn! Nine months is a long time to go without booze. And hot dogs, and of course, soft cheeses.

I've taken to sniffing Dan's red wine and occasionally wetting my lips with it.

"Here," he offered last Friday. "I'll drink some and then give you a kiss." I gave him a wary look. "Okay, ready!" he proclaimed, swallowing a big glug. "I've coated my tongue!"

Excuse me if that didn't sound overly appealing.

Since I can't actually be drunk, I've decided to upload a photo of me looking drunk. Here I am at sixteen weeks, with my nine pounds pretty much evenly distributed over my whole self, from the looks of things: