Well, the good news...actually great news...is that Holland (our good friends' Ben & Erin's daughter) was born yesterday! And she is GAW-GEOUS! After a fabulous softball team supper, we headed to the hospital to visit our newest fielder...I call her Holls. She's soo tiny. I mean a regular size for a baby, but it's so hard to imagine that we were all that size once. Well, except for my Uncle Brad, who was a husky 22 pound toddler when he was born. (Love you, Uncle Brad). But she is soooo stinking cute and super chill and relaxed. Just let everybody hold her. Not like she had a choice, but she seemed cool about it. When Brandi held her, she opened up her eyes and looked around. Just steals my heart. I was TERRIFIED that she would hate me. When she was in the womb, she hated me. She wouldn't move for me. She'd move for everybody else, but I'd walk in proximity and she'd hiss and turn the other way and not move just to spite me. But, when I held her yesterday, she smiled at me and high-fived me and we laughed and just chatted away. They say babies don't know how to smile yet when they're first born and that it's just gas...no...she totally smiled AT me. So, me and Holls are cool now.
I didn't get very many good pictures, so I'm borrowing some of Ben's that he took while we were there.
Look at her. Could she be any more perfect. I think not.
So sweet. There's nothing cuter to me than to see a guy holding a baby.
I's so happy!!
Little Mummy Holland...all wrapped up. What you can't see is the head of AMAZING dark curly hair underneath that cap.
Proud Papa Ben
Little Reid (Tris and Eric's cutie pie) wanted to come along, too, to meet gal pal Holland. He was just chatting away. The Braves lost the game, so he was a little upset about that, but otherwise, he was giving Holland some diaper advice and which toys were the most tasty to chew on...stuff like that.
Sigh. It makes me excited for when these squatters get here. Right now, I'll settle for knowing if they're boys or girls. Three weeks to go! Woot!
Now for the bad news.
This might upset some of you. Those of you that knew her. Ann Claire the Majesty Palm kicked the bucket this past weekend. She lived a long, full life of a year and two months. She brought much happiness and pleasantry to the breakfast nook area of the house. She was green and lush and tropical-y. And Blue loved to chew her leaves. She meant a lot to all of us. Now, her brown stalks rest down the hill behind our house...where David threw her...kind of harshly, too. Goodbye, Ann Claire. Now I have to go buy another one of you.
This weekend, our good friends Billy and Beth and their cutie patootie son Carter came to visit us. We had a great weekend! It was the best I've felt in a looooong time...night time is still a hassle...but the afternoons were great. On Saturday afternoon, we went to the Botanical Gardens. I love going there. It's so peaceful and serene and it smells good. And, hey, it's free. Woot! Here's some pictures.
As we were walking through the Woodland section, we came across this shrine left to this tiny blossom. Kind of creepy. A little Blair Witch...
Captain Morgan and Beth
Carter...he was very enthusiastic about the gardens at first.
Me and the Davs
I love bamboo.
You never know what lurks in your bamboo plants.
We also spotted some Bamboo Jungle creatures. Look how cute and cuddly.
Carts makes the best faces when you do The Claw.
Look, it's the Pope blessing me. Tee hee!
Dad = free ride.
13 weeks and 2 days...Me, David and the two 3" shrimp babies.
So, for our three-year anniversary back in 2007, David and I took a two-week cruise around the British Isles. We'd both always wanted to go and I heart everything British, so we figured, why not. We flew to Amsterdam. I almost stuck a Dutch kid in one of the overhead compartments because A) he was a brat and B) he was sitting right in front of us yapping away and C) he was a brat. Just watch your movie and keep to yourself. The ship left out of Amsterdam and sailed down the river through the locks to the North Sea.
We stopped at a few places in Scotland (my favorite), Northern Ireland, Ireland (truly the greenest place I've ever seen), Wales and ended up in Frengland...or Guernsey Channel Island, which is half France and half England...so, Frengland. Actually, apparently it's a remnant of the Duchy of Normandy, but nobody maintains that, so it's weird. My grandmother, my mom's mom...the one whose family is from Ireland...asked me to pick her up a thimble from Ireland (she collects thimbles from all over). Easy enough, right? Saw plenty of thimbles in Scotland. Saw plenty of thimbles in Northern Ireland. Couldn't find a single thimble in Ireland. Apparently, the Irish don't sew. Maybe the leprechauns do it for them, I dunno. That's kind of creepy to think about...anyways. So, I figured, "Well, when we get to Guernsey, since technically it's England, surely they'll have some sort of 'All Things British' souvenir shop and I can get one from there."
We arrived in St. Peter Port on the Channel Island and spent the day shopping. We explored the French part of the city and the English part of the city. We stopped by an antique bookstore just for funsies and, I kid you not, the epitome of THE Englishman worked at the bookstore. He had CRAZY hair...curly and disheveled and huge. He had on tiny, round glasses...framing small, dark, but bright eyes. A perfect cockney accent flowed between Austin Powers teeth. He was wearing brown tweed pants, a once-white, long-sleeved button-up...stained yellow at the neck...a loose brown tie, and a brown tweed jacket with the leather elbow pads. Oh, and drab, brown loafers. He was fabulous. Every other word was either "brilliant" or "capital". I just wanted to hug him and make a miniature version of him to carry around in my pocket. I called him Fritz. We asked him where we might find a thimble with "Ireland" written across it. He directed us deeper into the English side of the city to a quaint, little Irish pub. Why wouldn't there be an Irish pub? Every country in the world has one. My neighborhood has one. And why wouldn't an Irish pub have an Irish thimble? They have everything, right? I think Fritz sent us there because it was the only thing "Irish" in the city.
Well, off we went. We strolled down a cobblestone path and out onto a larger street, one turn to the left and there it was...Claddagh.
I really wanted to get that thimble, so I gave David a sideways glance and sigh and said, "Might as well try...who knows, they may very well have a thimble." We hesitantly trotted inside. Inside, although dark and laden with the smell of whiskey, it was actually quite nice. Dark, wooden walls, a stone floor, pub tables - some tall, some short - scattered around, all completely filled with "regulars." We waltzed in, all American, and of course we looked like tourists. Every eye was on us. When they realized we weren't going to take their drinks, they turned back to their conversations and ale.
The bar was at the back of the pub, running along the left wall. Across from it, on the right wall, was a series of booths, complete with three, loud, drunken Irishmen. Apparently, the front section was for the quiet drinkers...the back, for the real drinkers. The only person not holding a Guinness was the bartender, a tall, skinny, pale early-30's guy with dark hair and startling blue eyes. So we figured we'd talk to him. We walked up to the bar. It was very much a picture-perfect moment. The bartender was wiping beer mugs with a dirt-smudged cloth and setting them in order below the bar. When he saw us approaching, he threw the towel over his shoulder, put both hands on the counter, smiled and said in a thick, almost incomprehensible, Irish accent..."What can I get you two?"
I stepped forward to answer his question...
"Ah, we're okay. Thank you, though. Actually, we were wanting to know if you knew of a place in town where they sold Irish souvenirs...like a thimble. I'm looking for one for my grandmother."
I had to speak loudly to be heard over the din of the Irishmen behind me...on their third Guinness each from the looks of it.
"A thimble?" he queried with a puzzled look on his face.
"Yeah. It's weird, I know. We were told to come here because you might know of a place. My grandmother's family is Irish and she collects thimbles from around the world and wanted one from Ireland and we can't find one anywhere."
"Did you check Ireland? (snicker nicker)" We turned around to see that the three loudy-pants had decided to join our conversation and quest for the thimble. I named them Patrick, Kevin and Oliver. Kevin was the smart one that asked the question.
"Yes. We were there a few days ago and we couldn't find anything. We had to come all the way to Frengland to find one because Ireland was out."
Kevin didn't have a response for that. He sunk back into the booth and pondered his life, white-knuckled grip on his beer mug. I turned back toward the bartender.
Bartender raised an eyebrow and asked, "What does it need to look like?"
I answered, "Oh, just a thimble. Anything really. It can say 'Ireland' on it or just have a clover on it...something like that."
Immediately, the entire world inside the pub stood still. Even the three Irishmen were quiet...all glaring at me...not harshly, just in a "you're an idiot" kind of way. I was thinking, "What did I say?"
Bartender laughed a little and said, "Do you mean a shamrock?"
"SHAMROCK!" Kevin, Oliver and Patrick agreed unanimously....clinking their mugs together...Guinness sloshing all over the table.
"Oh, yeah, a shamrock. That's what I meant."
"She said 'clover.' (giggle giggle)" Oliver slurred.
Bartender said, "We don't have any here, but let me call my mum and ask."
"Oh, gosh, no, that's not necessary...seriously. It's ok-"
He held up his hand to silence me as he put his ear to the phone. "Mum! Hi! It's Bartender...yeah...hey, listen...we've got some friends here looking for a thimble that has something Irish on it. Do you have any?...........Okay, well, go look and call me back." Hanging up the phone, he turned to us and asked, "How long would you need it for?"
"Uhm...well, forever. It's a gift for my grandmother."
"Oh...so, like a souvenir."
"Yes, because she collects them." I was beginning to think he had had a little something to drink.
"Okay...let's see...something with a shamrock........"
Hearing the word "shamrock" again, the three stooges perked up and Oliver said, "Hey, Bartender...your shirt has a shamrock on it...GIVE HER YOUR SHIRT!"
Patrick and Kevin echoed, "GIVE HER YOUR SHIRT!"
Mugs together, slosh, big sip.
Before David, Bartender or I could say anything...Kevin sat up in his seat a little more and said, "Your apron...your apron has a shamrock on it...GIVE HER YOUR APRON!"
Of course Patrick and Oliver loved that idea and echoed, "GIVE HER YOUR APRON!"
Mugs clink, slosh, drink. It was starting to look like a water park at Drunk Booth #2. I realized that the three lads were honestly trying to help.
This time, Patrick had a great suggestion...he glanced up above the booth and saw a mirror...fitted with a faded shamrock sticker in the upper right corner. His eyes brightened. "Hey, hey! Look! The mirror has a shamrock. Bartender, GIVE HER THE MIRROR!"
Oliver and Kevin were tickled pink, "GIVE HER THE MIRROR!" They said in unison.
By now their mugs were empty, so when they clinked them together this time, it was just a loud PING and nothing...they still took big sips, and were slightly disappointed that their mugs failed them.
Bartender smiled sideways at us and said, "If you want anything that has a shamrock on it, you can have it...we have extras."
"Oh, wow. Thank you...I uhm...I really can't take your shirt...or apron...or...the mirror...but thank you. I really appreciate your help."
Just then, the phone rang. Bartender picked it up...it was Mum. After a brief discussion, he hung up and returned to the counter. "She can't find her thimbles, but she said there's a British souvenir shop a few streets down and they might have something."
"Perfect! Thank you. We'll go try there. Thanks for all your help."
Bartender waved, nodded his head, and returned to his bartenderly duties. Kevin, Patrick and Oliver seemed genuinely sad that we were leaving...Oliver stood up and waved goodbye to us and stated for all to hear, "I wish you well in your endeavor to find your...th-thim...the shamrock thim....b...what you're looking for." Kevin and Patrick "hear! hear!"-ed him and all three returned to their empty mugs....Bartender cutting them off at three pints each.
David and I scurried out of the pub back into the bright daylight...heading toward the souvenir shop. We, unfortunately never found the elusive Irish thimble (I think it's a legend), but we did find a British Isles thimble, so I figured that would do. Mamaw seemed to like it.
We will definitely always remember our time in Claddagh and how asking a simple question, "Do you know where we can find an Irish thimble?" turned into us walking out with half an Irish pub in our hands. Also, it was a week day...during lunch...and Kevin, Patrick and Oliver were in business suits...what did they do when they went back to work?
I was just soooo tired yesterday. I took my bath at 6:00 pm, because I go to bed at 7:30-8:00 pm, and I shrug into my socks and Valentine Day pajamas and look down and this is what I see.
It's very sad. You see the kind of brain power I'm dealing with here. I can't do anything about it. And I don't even care. I'm still wearing them. I found David's gun earmuffs, so I slept GRRRRREAT last night...the best sleep I've had in awhile. David, sweet precious, has taken it upon himself to have some sinus issues and I'm a very light sleeper. So, I'm feelin good today. It feels like it should be Thursday, doesn't it? I really want some pizza rolls.
Okay, when I said I'd post a story about the Irish Thimble today, I meant tomorrow. I's so sorry. It was a busy weekend...sleeping and eating and going to see a movie and walking around the house...it takes a lot out of you, you know. I'll put it up tomorrow. In the meantime, I'd like you all to reflect on how amazing this is and what their wedding invitations must look like.
I don't have a ton of time this morning, so I'll just fill you in on a few things.
Giant Humboldt squid are attacking divers who are swimming after the giant squid off the coast of San Diego. Here's a thought...stop swimming with the squid. They don't go shopping downtown San Diego and bother you, do they?
Crocs might be going out of business. I'm kind of sad. I mean, no one wears Crocs much anymore, but still. Well, I wear my flip-flops and my Georgie boots because they make me walk super fast. Poor Crocs. Remember the days we were all wearing ugly shoes? Those were good times.
Apparently, there are six foods we all should be eating more that we're not. You know, "they" say that, so we should probably listen. Here they are...celery. I eat celery a lot. I don't understand why it's so healthy, though. It's grass-flavored water in a stalk form. Seaweed...uh, no. I've tried it before and it does NOT taste like collard greens...that waiter was a liar. Dark meat...well, whatever. It all tastes the same to me. Scallops...they're like eating ten-year old marshmallows that taste like fish. They have a lot of protein, though. Hmmm...I think I'll stick with chicken. Hemp seeds...what are those? Is that like, baby marijuana? Lentils...I'll eat those over baby marijuana any day.
Alrighty...have a great weekend and stay cool. I had NO idea I would be this hot. Well, that's obvious of course...but, silly you, I meant temperature-wise. The surface of the sun has relocated to my yard and I'm afraid I will combust if I walk outside. They said one baby is like having an internal heater...well, I have two heaters and I'm quite warm and irritable about it.
Anyways. I'll be back on Monday with the story about the Irish Thimble.
So, it's here...the second trimester. I guess I thought I'd wake up with ZERO nausea, I'd feel 110% myself again, I'd have the most beautiful, clear skin EVER, and I'd look like a babied Heidi Klum.
None of these things happened.
I don't understand.
I'm thinking the doctors and nurses and friends were just giving me an estimate, not an exact date. So, I think I should have read into it..."You'll feel SO much better once you reach your second trimester........maybe." But, that's okay. I'm just glad to know it's downhill from here. Well, until the third trimester when I look like a dirigible and until the kids actually come and I have to be responsible and stuff.
Speaking of being responsible...I am very upset. Ann Claire, my majestic palm plant in the breakfast room, is DYING...I mean, she is dying. She was doing so great. I think, I THINK, I forgot to water her for a few weeks. I've kept her alive for over a year and I let this happen. And it got me worried...what if I forget to water the babies? What if I forget to set them out in the sun to get some vitamin-enriched rays? I have zero motherly instinct. And I thought once I got babied, it would just hit me and I'd be like "Oh, I know exactly how to be a mom." But no...I let Ann Claire almost die. And Ann Claire is a plant. Sigh.
I am feeling somewhat better...not 100%, but better than a few days/weeks ago. I've only thrown up once in the past week and a half...which is a HUGE deal. The day I threw up, Monday, is the day I forgot my Zofran. Silly me. It's a sad story. Sara came over to swim with me for exercise. We ate a plum before we went swimming...delicious plums...swam for about 40 minutes. It felt great. Got out. Swallowed some water the wrong way, started coughing, gagged...had to rush to the bathroom. Red plums chunks everywhere. I got worried for a second because I thought, "Oh wow...I threw up my stomach." But nope, it was just the plum. Man, that plum cost me $.40.
I didn't get a picture of the rat dog. Probably because I haven't left the house since 1927. But, I am venturing out today. Lunch with some friends!
So, after a whole day of no Zofran (WORST. DAY. EVER.), I'm back on my drugs and feelin' good.
The past 11 weeks and 6 days have been quite weird and fun and have left me with a lot of hmmmm's.
Things I wasn't expecting about this whole baby deal:
That when you stopped "trying" is when it happens. I HATE admitting it, but all of y'all who told me that were sooo right. I was like, whoopty doo, we'll get babied right away. Nope. Five months. Which, I know is pansy time and not long at all, but when you're trying, it's an eternity. I mean...eternity. Of course, I thought something was wrong with me and I was completely barren and woe is me and yes, I over-dramatize a lot of things (no comment from you, parental units). And after the fifth month was nearly over, I was like..."this is dumb and too stressful. I'm sooo over trying. Let's just wait on the Lord and it'll happen when it's supposed to." Which is what I was saying all along, but that was the first time I meant it. I swear, the second I let it go is when it happened...on a cruise to Bermuda. Or Charleston.
Twins. That was a big surprise. Originally, when we thought they were fraternal, I thought, well, my great-grandmother was a fraternal twin, so maybe it skipped a generation or two. But now they're identical twins, so has nothing to do with heredity and Dr. Mac said there's a .4% (yes, point 4) chance of having identical twins naturally, so...I'm thinking lottery??
That I would look like a pizza. TMI, I know, but whatevs. But, I think, I THINK, it's letting up some. (fingers crossed) Y'all should see my forehead. It's like the volcanic mountains of Mordor.
That I would not want any chocolate. (GASP!) I know, right? I don't want sweets really at all. I want sour stuff and toast. Crackers, peaches, lemonade, some cheese, the jelly I got in my hostess gift basket for Erin's shower (mother of pearl, that stuff is delicious), chicken lasagna, milk, and subs from Subway are really all I want. It's sad. I miss chocolate. Not enough to eat it, though.
Crazy dreams! I knew that was a part of it and I've always had really vivid, imaginative dreams, but now, man, I can do all sorts of stuff. I can fly higher, there are cooler spaceships, colors are brighter, everything seems more real...wow, I sound high. I swear it's the babies.
I'm not as mean as I thought I'd be. I'm a lot more mellow. Which, I'm sure Davey appreciates. Probably because all I've been able to do is sit waaaay back in my chair to work and make it to the couch or bed later. I don't have the energy to be grouchy.
That I would wear pajamas every second of every day that I could get away with it and I don't even care who knows it. I am obsessed with blue jeans and I haven't worn jeans in..uhm...about two months.
Going to bed at 7:30 pm. Poor David...I must be the most boring person ever.
Sweet Hugs waits on me hand and foot. I'm gonna be so fat. He gets everything for me. He rubs my feet. He tucks me in at night. He runs and gets stuff at the grocery store at 11 o'clock at night for me. He'll come in from the other rooms just to hand me the remote that's about 3 inches from me. He is wonderful. And no, he is not for hire. I paid good money for him. I'm keeping him.
Wipeout wears me out. Just in the past few weeks, we have to fast forward past the super intense part of the Wipeout Zone because it makes me sooo tired and kind of sick feeling. I think my body thinks I'M running it. And watching people in the Dizzy Dummy makes me a little sick, too, which didn't before. But that's okay...it's still worth watching. Did y'all see the couple's one last week? THAT was funny. The moose guy...huh-larious!
Anyways. That's about all I have for today. I don't really have a lot to chat about seeing as how I've been a hermit for the past month or so and I don't get out much. I'll try to take some pictures of our neighbor's new rat...ahem, sorry...dog. It's about the size of my foot and looks uncannily like Professor Ratigan from the Great Mouse Detective.
Hi. This is David (a.k.a Hugsy, Hugs, Davey Pooh, etc. I answer to many things.) Ruth wanted me to tell you that she is sorry she has been MIA for the past few days and that she's "waiting for the squatters to grow up and let her get some ever-loving rest!!!" She said it a lot more loving and motherly than that, but it's hard to convey tone through mere words.
She just wanted you to know she was still alive and had not forgotten about you.
She also stated that I should end the post with a witty story. So, here goes.
Well, I don't have a story or any pictures or any wise anecdotes (are any of my anecdotes wise?) today, but I promised Jenny I'd write something, so here you go...
My Mom came up to visit yesterday and is staying with us until tomorrow morning. She is the best mom. I have the best parents...I really do...I'm sorry, but I have them. She came bearing gifts...chicken lasagna (which I have been dying to have), pasta salad, chicken salad and grape salad...soo much of it and all of it fabulous. Thank you, Momma. Sara came over and we all had a wonderful supper. Mom also brought me and Sara some Hello Kitty notecards and stationery, wooden artist model dolls (I love those things), and a cat hat for Blue. I will obviously take a picture of Blue in the hat for you...it's too perfect...and Blue really seems to love it...as she loves so many things in life. She also got the babies their first pairs of socks...running socks for 0-6 month olds. Which is, of course, great because they will be out running soon after they're born.
Miz Di (Dianne), my Mom's BFF and my second mother, sent me an email the other day about Ed Freeman, a Vietnam war vet who flew in an unarmed Huey helicopter and saved 30 wounded soldiers who were under heavy enemy fire when all of the other Medi-Vac helicopters were ordered to stop flying in. He flew in 13 times to grab those guys. He got the Medal of Honor. And he died last week at 80 years old. And nobody even knew. Because the media was too concerned with Michael Jackson (if I hear one more thing about him....). Anyways. Go read up on Ed Freeman. He was a great guy and a great American.
Alrighty, I'm gonna go eat my waffles and get to work, but I'll leave you with a little poem about my new friend Zofran.
I was throwing up all the time
The twins were like, "Nope, we don't want that."
So, I asked Dr. Mac..."Dude, you gotta give me something."
And he said, "Sure thing...I'll prescribe you some Zofran."
I went to Walgreens to pick it up...that was a good day
The pills are tiny, but even so, I cut them in half
Cuz I only got eight, but now I got sixteen...sixteen...sixteen
Of these little yellow pills called Ondansetron...a.k.a. Zofran.
I take it around lunchtime and boy, it surely helps
I haven't chucked any ups since the weekend...miracle!
I still don't feel 100%, but tons better than before
Yes, yes I did. Why? Because, turns out, they're identical twins...not fraternal like we all originally thought. Hardy har. So, instead of it being Charleston and Bermuda, it's more like Charleston A and B because they split from one alien ball o cells. I told Dr. Mac I wasn't coming in anymore if every time we had an ultrasound, we got a little surprise. So, we had our 10 weeks (and 4 days, thank you) check-up yesterday afternoon....took fooooreeeevvveeeerrrr. Apparently, I have about three "long" appointments and that was one of them. First, I had an ultrasound...a belly one this time, thank goodness. And the tech is all like, "Didn't Dr. Mac say they were di-di (fraternal)?" and I'm like, "Yes, he did." And she says, "Well...hmm...these are identical. I'm seeing one blah blah sac and two inside blah blah sacs...so, that would make them mono-di twins." I'm just laying there like, "Well, whatever that means." So, they call in Dr. Mac and he confirms, stating that the belly ultrasound machine is higher resolution than the other (hated) machine, so they can see the entire thing better and sho nuff...there's one big main sac and two individual sacs inside with a little baby in them. And apparently, that's a good thing because being inside the same inner-sac gives them a chance to fight and get tangled and we don't want that. I'd rather them be outside to fight. Also, I hate the word "sac," so I'm changing it to "space pod." So, basically, the childrens are in one big space pod and two individual pods inside the big one, just hanging out.
SO ANYWAYS. They're identical. I would have bet my right arm...well, maybe my left arm...that we were having a boy and girl...but now I have no idea. My mom is adamant they're girls, so I'm gonna go with girls. I think it's two curly, red-headed girls. David, just to disagree, is saying they're boys. We really don't care...as long as they're one or the other. I just want them to be healthy and good cooks like their dad.
David had the ultrasound lady check "just in case" to see if there was another one in there, because you just never know. And there's just the two, so we're good. Anyways. Then, we met with Dr. Mac to talk about this and that and he poked on my tummy and my uterus just loved that. Then I had to go get some blood drawn. And the lady that normally draws my blood is a really good needle sticker. And I don't watch when she does it. But this time, she goes, "Oh, that's the worst stick I've ever done. The needle is barely in...do you want to see? You can totally see the needle right in your vein." And I'm like, "No, I'm good...thanks." "No, really, look...it's cool!" "THANKS. I'M GOOD." But, she finally finished and I looked over and she had filled FIVE VIALS with my blood. Greedy much? Usually, it's just the one vial. I'm like, "Got enough there, vampire nurse? I'm sure there's a few drops left in there, Dracula. Might as well take it all."
I know I'm supposed to be all...awww, my babies...and cry when I see the ultrasound. And I love these two suckers more than anything and I'd give my life for them every second of every day...but to be honest 1) I'm too pukey to be all jumpy and excited about it. and 2)Y'all...ultrasounds are freaky. Just think about it...you can see them moving and jerking around and waving and saying stuff. And they're in there. And they're naked. And it's creepy. I'm sorry. But, it's creepy.
So, here's the ultrasound. It's maybe 4 minutes, but every now and then, you can see them go POW POW! Kick in the face, sibling! BOING! WHAZZUP?! So, that's fun to watch. And you can see the two space pods inside the big one.
SO, new guilty pleasure...Obsessed. I think it comes on TLC. I know it seems I watch a lot of TV and normally, I don't. I just have Lost (when it's on) and Wipeout and The Office. But when you're couch-ridden for fear of upchucking all of the food you've eaten that day (which inevitably happens anyway), you tend to just flip through the channels a lot. And this weekend, I came across Obsessed. It's kind of like Intervention, but better. It's about these people with different OCD habits...some of them are funny, some of them not so funny. Some of them seem a little extreme to me, but I know it's a real thing and people can't explain it and they have to deal with it. But since I was watching it by myself, I giggled a few times...ONLY at the girl who didn't like her mom or her brother's hands. I know she struggled with it and they ended up being able to help her and it ended great and everybody was happy. It's a very interesting show.
I have some OCD tendencies. I think everybody has their own quirks and weird things they do that are slightly OCD. Doesn't make you OCD, just makes you funny. I knew a guy once that gave point values to words on bottled drinks depending on how many inside and outside edges each letter had. I'm a neat freak. Things on my desk have to be lined up just right. That's kind of a normal one, though. I like to step on cracks in pavement. But, right in the center of my foot. When I'm walking on a trail in the woods, I like to step on rocks and roots right in the center of my foot. I have no idea why. I just like to. I like to make price points or digital alarm clocks or digital odometers match up numerically somehow. For example...an easy one...if the time is 5:32...then I'm good. Because, 5 is 5 and 3+2 is 5. So, it balances out. If a price on an item is $6.99...I have to work with it a little bit. But, I can usually figure something out. 9+9 is 18 and the $ sign and the decimal point both count as 1 point and the number 6 counts as 1 point, so that's 3 points on the left side of the price, and 6 x 3 is 18 so VOILA! It works. Wow, I sound a little bit crazy. But, you get the idea.
So, do you have any weird little things you do? You know you do. Don't try to hide it. That's another symptom of OCD...trying to hide it.
Well, I have another ultrasound today and I am super excited about it. I'm also hoping that Dr. Mac has a super amazing miracle pill I don't know about that can cure me of this nausea. Oh, and believe me, I've tried everything. Ginger, ginger pills, real ginger ale (thank you, sweet Brandi!), Emetrol, eating crackers when I first wake up (gag), taking my vitamins at night, eating several small meals throughout the day, Preggie Pops, Preggie Pop Drops (which, by the way, is just candy...CANDY. I could have bought Lifesavers...blast you, babycenter.com)...I have tried everything. So, please dear Lord, let there be something I don't know about. I go to bed around 8:30 now...it's the only rest I get. It's so sad...I'm like 109-year old Ruth. Oh well...I know it'll be worth it...one day.
I'm so out of it today that I can't even pretend to make up something to write about. I'm so sorry. I'm in my pajamas, my hair is ridiculous, I'm eating Cocoa Puffs...I look very sad today. Not depressed sad, but like, if you saw me, you'd feel sorry for me and say, "Oh, wow, she looks bad."
So, I have two things to say to you today...
Happy Birthday, America! Thanks for everything you've done for us. I am very happy I belong to you and I'm very thankful you let me stay here. All of you kids have a great Fourth and be safe and don't hold onto the fireworks after you light them. You really should let them go. Thank a soldier, give them a hug. Don't forget the sacrifices made that have given us the freedoms we have here and have made this nation so incredible. Don't forget the foundations this country was built on. In God We Trust. They can try to politically correctize that all they want, but they'll get over it. And if you have a problem with my country, there are planes and boats that can take you anywhere you want to go. Permanently. I'll wave to you at the dock. So, Happy Fourth, friends! Seriously...let go of the fireworks. It's not worth it. Ask Four Fingers McLendon.
If you wanted to surprise me with a weekend at the new 103rd floor glass balcony rooms at the Sears' Tower in Chicago, you should cancel the reservation, because I'm not walking out there.
Today is Canada Day. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank our friendly neighbor up north for a few things that they've given us.
1. Politeness - they're saw nice. And they rarely lie. And I appreciate that.
2. Superman - yep...they invented Superman.
3. Chocolate bars - I don't even have to say anything aboot this one. I - I just...thank you, Canada.
4. Ginger Ale - always there to cure an upset stomach or add a refreshing surprise to any drink.
5. The walker - Mr. Frederickson in Up wouldn't be half the man he was withoot his walker.
6. Instant mashed potatoes - who can say no to those.
7. The zipper - I, for one, am extremely grateful for this one.
8. Television - where would this world be withoot Lost, 24, the news...well, probably a lot less stuck to the TV, but still.
9. Paul Gross - well, he's just pretty.
10. Trivial Pursuit - even though this game annoys me, I still rule at it. It always feels good to dominate people who pretend they're saaaaaw smart, but really just read all of the questions and answers while on the toilet.
11. Maple Syrup - I'm not 100% sure aboot this one...I know we have Vermont, but they have a maple leaf on their national flag, so I'm sure they had something to do with syrup.
12. Celine Dion - even though I spent 75% of my life thinking she was from Italy.
13. A good buddy for Alaska - cuz we don't want Alaska to get lonely up there.
14. Half of Niagara Falls - you can just swim across and be in America if you want. I don't recommend that, though.
15. The Loonie - their $1 coin is called a Loonie...after the bird pictured on it. And that's just plain funny.
Well, that's aboot all the time I have today. Saw, thank you, Canada, for a lot of stuff. You're a good friend and you have a pretty home. Oh, and thanks for sending the geese down in the winter...they're fun to watch.