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Monday, March 29, 2010

Taking It Slow

Two turtles go camping and pack a cooler with sandwiches and soda. After three days of walking, they arrive at a great spot but realize they've forgotten a bottle opener. The first turtle turns to the second and says, "You've gotta go back and get the opener or else we have no drinks."

"No way," says the second. "By the time I get back, you will have eaten all the food."

"I promise I won't," says the turtle. "Just hurry!"


Nine full days pass, and there's still no sign of the second turtle. Exasperated and starving, the first turtle digs into the sandwiches. Suddenly, the second turtle pops out from behind a rock and yells, "I knew it! I'm not going!"

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Whew! About 3 weeks left in this pregnancy and, man, oh man, am I heavy! I've gained so far 42 pounds, 12 more pounds than the total of my last pregnancy. I am having trouble a-walking. A trip to the grocery store is a day at the grocery store.

I realized I was getting out of breath more often than I thought when my daughter started copying my exhausted exhale.
"Fffffff..." I blow out.
"ffffff..." she blows out.

When I carry her up the stairs to her room for naptime, I have to sit with her on the rocking chair for about 5 minutes so I can catch my breath enough to sing to her "time for a nap..." as I lay her down.

Sometimes I pause halfway up the stairs, which she finds amusing.
"What are we doing here, silly?" she seems to grin at me.

I've finally accepted that there are only about 3 hours in the day for me to get anything done. My to-do list each day comprises of two, maybe three, really important things. Some days, I only get one done. And it's ok.

Businesses and classes I wanted to get done in three months have been replanned. I am giving myself one year to get contacts made, licenses attained, and scheduling set. This is a HUGE step for me in the department of patience.

As the snail said when riding on the turtle's back:

Weeeee!


-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

A man hears a knock on the door and opens it to find a turtle on his doorstep. The man picks up the turtle and throws it as far as he can. Two years later, the man hears a knock on the door and opens it up. The same turtle looks up at him and says, "What was THAT all about??"


[Posted song: "Slow Ride" by Foghat]

Thursday, March 25, 2010

A (cough) Little Behind

I love the mirror behind the door of my OB's examination room. It's big and shiny and I can fix my hair or check my teeth before I walk back out into society.

Last Monday though, I was changing from the medical gown and into my clothes, and somehow, I ended up looking over my shoulder into the mirror, just as I had one leg hacked up to get my underclothing on.

HOLY HUGE BUTT!

Why didn't anyone tell me my butt had swallowed a Honda?? All this time, I've been walking out in public with no license plate or registration for this thing!

I paused in front of that mirror, with my foot mid-air, and my jaw dropped open. I could not believe that was MY butt. That big ol' thing. Attached to me.

Pardon me, people. I was unawares before. Now, I know to at least waddle outside with my hazards on.



[Posted song: "Baby Got Back" -- Gilbert and Sullivan style]

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Small Hands Make Light Work

There is something to be said for a man with small hands. Or a skilled pickpocket who reforms in favor of helping people. Or a competent midget with a medical license.

With just over four weeks left in my pregnancy, I had my first "special" exam yesterday. My doctor reached in and said, "The baby is head down," but he might as well have said, "Your tonsils feel fine" for as far in as he ventured.

I had forgotten how painful the special exams can be until I found myself scratching at the ceiling with my teeth. My husband was in the room and said I jumped looking for something --anything-- to grab onto and brace my pained self. I pulled some chest muscles so bad that I was referred to the ER immediately after my appointment to make sure my chest pains were benign. (Totally not making that up.) (Totally went to the ER and got CAT-scanned.)

Wouldn't it be nice to get medical treatment in Star Trek Land where the doctor could just wave a medical scanner over me to know exactly what was going on in my body, and I could order the replicator to make me a bowl of ice cream with bananas, strawberries and an unhealthy portion of Magic Shell? Instead, I'm on The Nature Channel, and my doctor is rooting around like a black bear with his paw in the trunk of a tree searching for insects.

The news: I am dilated to 1 centimeter, which means David and I for real have to pick out a baby name. At 5cm, we will consult the Magic 8 Ball. At 9cm, the nurse gets to pick the name. (Hopefully, she has good taste in names.)

Until that day comes, I must continue to see Dr. BananaHands for my special exams.

Ah, heck. Who doesn't like getting their tonsils massaged every once in while?

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Yeah, I See You

You, the one in the Midwest who is not supposed to be keeping tabs on me. The one who had me labeled as an obsessed stalker.

Yeah, you. Google says you've been visiting the blog regularly.

Yeah, I see you.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Keeping the Sabbath Day Holy-ish

Sue recently blogged about her less-than-love of Sabbath Sundays and in order to not be a 'comments box' hog, I decided to blog about thoughts that popped in my head as I read her post. Perhaps, this will also give readers insight into my holy nature and add to their own basket of spiritual manna.

I'll quote some of Sue's words about Sabbath Day activities, which I will mark somehow. Maybe with boldness and quotation marks.

"Thou Shalt Not Work
Rest from your labors and all that."
(Yes, like that.)

We're generally pretty good about keeping this one because David and I are generally lazy people. However, I do have my moments where I get on the computer and get some work done, mostly because Sunday is one of the two days my husband is home and can entertain the toddler, and I don't have to try typing on the computer while little fingers decide that reaching up and clicking the mouse and hitting the "Control" button of the keyboard makes fun stuff happen on the monitor.

I suppose I could look at my Sunday work as "I'm making money I will tithe on, therefore I'm making money for the Lord!"

But, yeah... no.


"Thou Shalt Not Go To The Store
I guess under the premise that your patronage requires someone else to work on Sunday?"

I think it has to do not just with the requirement of labor but with the exchange of money. This brings back memories of growing up in a little ward located in Old-People-Come-Here-To-Die, Florida. There was an elderly couple who would back up their station wagon on Fast Sundays (the one Sunday a month when Mormons abstain from eating and drinking for two meals, beginning the night before), open the trunk door, and sell Hostess fruit pies and various breads from the bakery thrift store. I remember hounding my parents for quarters so I could get myself a delicious cherry pie! (Mmmmmm... then. Kinda gaggy now.) The practice was halted some months later; I heard the adults say something about the bishop saying "no."

So yeah, we don't go to the store on Sundays.

But... I also have memories as a kid, riding in the car on the way home from church and my parents going through the drive-thru convenience store and picking up a container (or two) (or three) of ice cream. I specifically remember a flavor called "Death by Chocolate" which made everyone in the family clutch their stomachs and feel like the name was truth in advertisement. Perhaps, we should have died and appropriately served as a warning to other LDS folks in our congregation.

But we (David and I) don't go to the store. Though sometimes, I want to because I always seem to NEED ice cream on Sunday. Hmmm. Whyever could that be?


"Thou Shalt Not Play Sports
I will confess to not understanding this one. Why no sports? Is it because they're rowdy? Or because you sweat, and that's kind of like working?"

My guess is that sports and cussing go hand-in-hand. And one should not cuss unless you're Porter Rockwell.


"Thou Shalt Get Thy Brood To Church
Mormons go to three hours of church, y'all. THREE HOURS."

Yeah- I'm actually OK with this one only because we're not actually sitting in the same room in one service for three hours. I once went to a friend's one-hour service, and it was more torture than our three hours. (And they had drums and electric guitars!) I was totally yearning to walk into a room filled with women facing some sort of framed art sitting on an easel atop a lace-covered table silently wagering whether or not that day's teacher would be handing out candy.


"And if you get there late, you are NOT getting a pew, you are going to end up sitting in the metal folding chair ghetto at the back of the chapel with all of the other families who couldn't get their act together either"

You know who I don't understand? The people who get to church early or on time and CHOOSE to sit in the folding chair ghetto. Why is that?

No, really. Why?

Some of you read my blog. Why do you do it?

Those chairs are hard and cold. And when kids bang on them with their sippy cups, they're loud; you can't hear a darn thing back there. And, hello, never enough hymn books! So, then you have to pretend you know the words to "If You Could Hie to Kolob" or hope that "I'm a Child of God" will be the intermediate AND the closing song (but only the first verse).


"Thou Shalt Partake of the Following Approved Activities: "
(Sue makes her list then shares her experiences of entertaining children on Sundays.)

"So basically, I'm looking for ideas. What do YOU do on Sundays to make it - not like that?"

Sundays are always funner at someone else's house (except for, perhaps, the in-laws' house)(haha)(maybe), so this is a perfect excuse to somehow get invited to someone else's house where they make dinner.

Us: "What are you guys doing the rest of today?"
Them: "Not a thing. How about you?"
Us: "Just hanging out at home."
(pause)
Us: "We should get together some time!"
Them: "We should!"
Us: "Hey, how about tonight? What are you guys making for dinner?"

We probably should soon start with the reciprocating thing. It's been a few years. Luckily, I'm presently pregnant, which means I have an excuse to not play hostess because, you know, this baby "could come any moment!" Also, all we ever have in the house is ramen noodles. Ever.


"What on earth do you do all day long?"

Lately, when not enjoying someone else's dinner, David and I mostly get on different computers and ignore each other for the day in favor of talking to virtual friends. Sometimes, just to keep the romance alive, we'll send each other a quick "love you" or "::kisses::" in instant messages. See that? That's family time.

Other times, we play games. Like FOR REAL games where we sit in front of each other face-to-face handling paper cards and plastic pieces!

Other times, we jointly stare at our incredibly cute daughter as she practices walking from the front window to the ottoman and then from the ottoman to the front window. It's mind-blowing.

Other times, we go for a walk around the neighborhood and take the chance of running into real people with whom we must engage in conversation so as to look like we're friendly and not addicted to Facebook at all. Also, this helps line up possible future Sunday dinners.

Other times, we talk about other people who just don't get things about life like we do. Really, if they were us, they would just breeze through life!


"How do you keep from killing each other?"

We. Just. Don't. Put the cleaver in the dishwasher on Saturday night with the other dirty dishes and it's all good.

Another good deterrent is to open the windows in the house when the weather is warm. Then, you can't yell at or beat your kids because "the neighbors will hear."


"Do you have fun family/friend get togethers?"

It depends if we are spending time with the in-laws or not. (haha) (maybe) And depends on how much you love toddlers and ottomans.

"(And if so, can I come? Without the kids?)"
Yes, you may come. ESPECIALLY without the kids.


So, yeah, that's how we keep the Sabbath Day holy.

Oh my, Sunday is only four days away, and I'm afraid I won't have time to restock our kitchen with food before then. Whatever shall we do?

Hey, what are you guys having for dinner?

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Chuck-a-rama!


Today is Chuck Norris' 70th birthday!
(Thanks, Nathan, for pointing this out.)

In honor of his birthday, here are 35 facts about Chuck Norris:


Time waits for no man. Unless that man is Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris' tears can cure cancer. Unfortunately, he has never cried.

Every night before he goes to bed, the Boogey Man checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

Death once had a near-Chuck experience.

Chuck Norris once strangled a man with a cordless phone.

Chuck Norris doesn't get wet, water gets Chuck Norris-ed.

Chuck Norris doesn't do push ups - he pushes the world down.

The quickest way to a man's heart is with Chuck Norris' fist.

Chuck Norris once kicked a horse in the chin - today, we call its descendants "giraffes."

Chuck Norris doesn't read books, he stares them down until he gets the information he wants from them.

Chuck Norris uses Tabasco sauce instead of Visine.

If you ever work in an office with Chuck Norris, do not ask him for his three-hole-punch.

Chuck Norris doesn't wear a watch, he decides what time it is.

Guns don't kill people. Chuck Norris kills people.

Chuck Norris does not get frostbite. Chuck Norris bites frost.

There is no such thing as global warning. Chuck Norris was cold, so he turned the sun up.

Chuck Norris is the reason Waldo is hiding.

When Chuck Norris was denied an Egg McMuffin at McDonald's because it was 10:35, he roundhouse kicked the store so hard it became a Wendy's.

Chuck Norris makes onions cry.

There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.

Chuck Norris doesn't cheat death. He wins fair and square.

Chuck Norris once won a game of Connect Four in 3 moves.

Chuck Norris can delete the Recycling Bin.

Chuck Norris can do a wheelie on a unicycle.

Once, a cobra bit Chuck Norris' leg. After five days of excruciating pain, the cobra died.

If you spell Chuck Norris wrong on Google it doesn't say, "Did you mean Chuck Norris?" It simply replies, "Run while you still have the chance."

If it looks like chicken, tastes like chicken, and feels like chicken but Chuck Norris says its beef, then it's freakin' beef.

Chuck Norris can slam revolving doors.

Superman owns a pair of Chuck Norris pajamas.

Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light. Not because Chuck Norris is afraid of the dark, but the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris

The best part of waking up is not Folgers in your cup, but knowing that Chuck Norris didn't kill you in your sleep.

Champions are the breakfast of Chuck Norris.

Rosa Parks refused to get out of her seat because she was saving it for Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris' calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd; no one fools Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris died ten years ago, but the Grim Reaper can't get up the courage to tell him.


Happy Birthday, Chuck!



Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Bit-O-Honey

In pursuit of getting these done, David and I decided to get rid of our Unlimited Shared Family Text Messaging Data Service Internet Cell Phone Plan of Techy Bliss and reduce our phones to a simple 1500 Minutes Shared with Optional Smoke Signals Plan. EGADS!


Dave being a tech geek and IT analyst needed time to adjust to the idea. He may have cried himself to sleep a couple nights. He loves his G1. It's the last thing he holds at night and the first light to greet him in the morning. He loves his phone applications. He has his app where he holds his phone up to "hear" a song playing on the radio or in a restaurant, and it identifies the name of the song and the artist. He has his app where he can scan the UPC code of some product he's interested in at a store, and it will tell him the price of that item in other stores in the area. And of course, his GPS app that is "cool" even though it sometimes takes us to the wrong destination. (That app should come with a "wife patch" to get it to stop and ask for directions.)

So, Dave was torn. I put on my strong facade, but I was a little hesitant as well. I remembered when we got rid of the television. I experienced phantom pains for a month. I would oft plop myself on the couch to relax in front of the television only to find myself staring at a blank wall where the 50" mammoth used to sit. I found myself promising a neighbor I'd catch her on a local television show and then realizing 5 minutes before show time that I had no TV. It was a weird month. I may have wandered around the house muttering to myself trying to make up for the lack of noise in the house. Now, I don't miss TV at all. And so I'm hoping it will be the same with the stripping down of our cell phones.

David finally accrued the will to drop the guillotine. He called TMobile and got a hold of a young Southern belle in customer service. He was all geared up to cut his baby out and then found out there was a $35 fee to change over.

"Hey- I know you want white bread, but, here, have wheat bread instead."
"I don't wanna."
"It's good for you."
"You're right. OK, I'll have the wheat."
"That'll be $35 for the privilege of being able to buy wheat bread."

Yeah, like that. But with a phone. Wheat phone was going to cost $35 to switch to.

I heard this and, of course, I got annoyed. Which means I got bossy. How dare they charge us $35 when we've been loyal customers for years! TMobile has been part of our entire marriage. If I had been the one talking with customer service, I would have had no inclination to mask my displeasure.

Dave knows I get things done, but I get them done in a you-better-not-cross-me-because-it-will-be-the-last-thing-you-do way. Sometimes, people react because they're scared. And sometimes, they get back in my face. My husband, though, isn't me, which is why I married him. Dave's way makes people WANT to do things. And it makes them want to pinch his cheeks and bake him cookies.

He smiled sweetly into the phone and in his most playful voice said, "Would you waive that fee? I've been with you for 10 years. I'm practically family." I heard Southern belle declare, "Oh, my goodness! Well, of course, why not!" and Dave kept chatting with her in his tender, charming way.

I realized then that he gets things done, too. I've much to learn from my sweet sweetie pie and his sweet ways. Maybe I'll have him text me some pointers.

Oh. Right.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Silver Dollars



video


"Now, really, don't you have a good feeling?"



How may I serve?



Wednesday, March 3, 2010

New Age Baby

Our Baby Dhis has done some interesting things since she was born.

Her two-hands-behind-the-head sleeping pose.
Her excited frog-hop-scoot along the floor.
Her shriekish annoyance when books she has finished reading are propped up out of place.

But the following stumps us the most.

A couple months ago, she discovered a stack of music CDs in the living room. I went about my business as she played with the cases. Some time passed before I realized she had been scooting around the house holding a particular case with two hands. I came over and looked at it.


Enya. We hadn't listened to that CD in probably two years.

She kept scooting around the living room holding onto the case with two hands. I finally asked her, "Would you like to listen to this?"

I placed the CD in the stereo. She immediately sat in front of the speakers, still, listening, chilling. For the entire CD.

Huh. Well, OK, but she's just a baby and this was a one time thing. Until the next day. And the next day. And the next day. She always picks up the Enya CD.

I tried an experiment.

I put all the CD cases in a stack with Enya mixed somewhere in the middle. She scooted over to the stack, carefully moved each CD to the side until she got to Enya. She picked it up and proceeded to go on her living room laps with her.

Yes, she sorts through the CDs looking for Enya. I've tested this many, many times. And she does it EVERY time. When she finds it, she carts it around the house. Sometimes, she is conflicted about how to get Mommy or a toy or a treat when her hands are full of Enya.

I studied the CD case. No bright colors. No eye-catching graphics. No prize inside. Maybe the girl just knows what is good for her.


UPDATE: BabyDhis has begun showing Norah Jones some love. My sweet, sweet, weird baby.


[Posted song: "Caribbean Blue" by Enya]