I need to brush my teeth but I need to vaccuum them first.

I haven't pooped in so many days that frankly, the prospect frightens me.

Last night I was reading Brave New World while Bear was falling off to sleep. We had an interesting conversation that I will relate later...

Oh.My.Heavenstobetsy! How on earth did I miss the 'Dawson's Creek' movement?? I am cynical about network programming but there has been a mini-marathon on this week. I'm completely hooked. What a great show! Those kids are super actors! Wowza.

Go ahead, berate away.
As I mentioned earlier my brother gave me a bad tip about a show to help deal with dogs and newborns. My little men are a bit....ah.....close to me. They follow my every move. The treat me like I have alzheimers and might wonder off too far from the fridge. Weird but spectacular doggers.

A point? Who, me? Well, my pal came over the other day with her newborn in a carseat, carry bucket type deal and set her down so I could do her hair for her wedding. (Yes, smarty pants, first the baby then the wedding..) Anyway, Jack had that funky 'look' he gets like when there is a fat, slow squirrel in the back yard. Very 'attentive'. I'm afraid he's looking for an opportunity to drag the baby out of the carrier and see if it has a squeaker. I just don't care for the look on his face. Hard to explain and I sound pretty insane but you've never seen him try to get the noisemaker out of a toy or a tail off a squirrel. Ugh.

Hobbes, on the other hand, is just thrilled that all kids seem to be covered with a variety of foods. He'll lick a kid down to the dermis. Bad dogs.
Hey now. Thanks to this kind soul I can now add some pictures. If you're wondering if I might be a good mother or not, consider my actions when Jack was asked to be in the 'Mutt Strutt' to benefit the local shelter.

We put our heads together and came up with this gem....

He ended up eating the hat but he loved his little over the shoulder number. He also chewed on the bones in my hair whenever I had to pick him up because he was snarly with a cocker spaniel....

My in-law remembers fondly my husband crying through an entire Halloween outing because his sister was a waiter and he was a table. He looked great and agreed beforehand to wear the thing, but tried to get out of it last minute. I'll try to find those pictures!!
No nap. Mom called. Again. After being asked not to call until I get up there. After being told repeatedly that I was sick and would see her sometime next week.

They sold the house and they have another divorce hearing on January 15th. I got to hear some trash-talk about my stepdad and grandmother, hear about how great her evil little dog is, and generally bite my tongue re:half-truths and lies. Always so relaxing.

My mother-in-law gave me tickets to rent on January 15th so I'll be completely unavailable for venomous recountings of court. Shucks.

Bear took me out for ice cream so I did see the outdoors today. Over-rated. But the ice cream was the BEST! When I got home Hobbes went for the glory and jumped up and ran that giant tongue over my cone. Rat bastard. So cute though.

After 10pm? It must be time for me to go to bed! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
It is alarming the amount of time I'm spending on my back. Enough said.

Bear has been my handmaiden and frankly, I could get used to this treatment. Today all I wanted was a meatball sub from our favorite Italian deli. He went right out and got it for me. I shared.

It is 5:30 here and I am barely up. I'm going to press a few of the man's shirts because he likes the way I do it better than the cleaners. A burden, to be sure, but I really feel like I owe him.

I haven't told the rest of the family about the expectancy. How long is appropriate after a branch of your family has lost a baby to share news of yours? I feel so sad about all that. My aunt called today and we talked for 2 hours. The whole time I wanted to tell her because we are close but it didn't feel right. Oh well, at some point after testing I guess it would be okay.....

I read The Autobiography of Santa Claus and I can recommend it heartily. It was a gift from a smart cookie and I really enjoyed it. Try it!

Well, I've pretty much shot my energy for a while with all this sitting upright. I have watched so many Law&Order episodes I'm pretty sure I could represent in the criminal justice system. I'm tempted, anyway...oh well, back to bed for a *little nap*.
Really starting to get excited thinking about having a child. My first ultra-sound is on the 2nd of January and I can hardly wait. All I want to know is that everything is alright. Although I feel simply wretched, I'm not vomiting so I am concerned that maybe it's not 'taking' or something like that. Bear wants me to be positive but I have far to much contrary programming for that right now. I just will have to wait a few more days....
We had dinner at my in-laws. Stupendous. Sometimes I think that I got such a great husband and such great in-laws because I hit some kind of cosmic lottery. In any event-I win!

My thoughtful husband gave me books I really wanted and books I didn't know about but really wanted when I opened them. Sometimes my eyes just sting with tears knowing how thoughtful and wonderful a man he is. The dogs got me an awesome sheepskin jacket, too. They rock!

We didn't put up a tree or anything because we figure this will be the last low-key Christmas. I was saying that we don't really need a tree or anything for a couple of years because the child will hardly be aware of all that until 3 or so, right? Everyone said that was mean. What would happen when he/she asks for pictures of the first Christmas? I was thinking I could just tell the kid that Santa can't be photographed and he shows up in person for the first few Christmases. Then I'll say that I did take pictures but his nasty elf assistant took my camera...two years in a row!! Hey-as long as we're lying to the kid, why not make it interesting?

So, we are getting ready for our usual Christmas tradition of calling everyone tonight (the 24th) and then no phones tomorrow. We usually just have a fire, read, watch any new DVDs (Bear got the Beavis and Butthead Greatest Hits...) and have a quiet day being thankful for each other. Nice.
Hmmmm, if someone can offer advice on how to post a picture to my blog, it would be appreciated. Evidently all these 'Dummie' books are for naught.
So I now have motherknowsbest.blogspot because I can't do therapy while pregnant since I read Dune. Long story-Benegesserit witches and pre-birth knowledge...know what I mean?! Anyway....

I have starting looking at my previously perfect husband with a more critical eye now that we may well be responsible for raising a child. For example.. today we had to take Hobbes, the pumpkin bunny of a pit/mix mutt, to the vet to have his anal glands expressed. We had to be there at 11 and I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeealy hate to be late. Late doesn't bother Bear for a New York second! We live just about 10 minutes from the vet. He tears himself away from his computer at 10:45 and says he thinks he'll take a shower first. I only don't kill him because I have just used every drop of hot water in the house :)

I'll skip the whole vet thing. Well, maybe not. Some lady dragged her genetically challenged bulldog practically under a bench to get away from our muffin, who really does look like a pitbull. I just hate the prejudice he endures. He is the sweetest of the sweet and really only wants to sit in my lap and have his face kissed---but she yanks her dog out of the way so it doesn't get eaten. Ugh! So, Hobbes had his butt check and we did some errands and came home.

Here is a picture of my terrifying pitbull mix, taking a nap on his favorite binkie...

The relevance, you ask? Bear is in the other room singing a song to the tune of 'If You're Happy And You Know It, Clap Your Hands.' He has changed the words a bit and it sounds like this--

If you had a finger in your butt, bark out loud!
If you had a finger in your butt, bark out loud!
If you had a finger in your butt and you really didn't mind
If you had a finger in your butt, bark out loud!
( he gives Hobbes the bark hand signal so he barks at the end of every line....)

Then he turned to Jack, the Patterdale terrier maniac:

If you want a finger in your butt, bark out loud!....

So both the dogs are barking and singing and Bear is giggling like a madman and I'm nervous about the kind of songs he will sing to the child......wait, I'm having a childhood flashback....my brother was the first one to get in trouble at school.....kindergarten...the children were asked what nursery rhymes they knew.....

MC: Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candle stick and burn his little ballsies.

Thanks to my parents' stilted humor, my brother is the master of free-form poetry.

*sigh* I'm a sarcastic mofo. My husband is, well, special and different. Our child is doomed to detention.
I'm thinking of starting another blog filled to the brim with my mother's parenting gems.

"You'll never be able to raise children. You can't keep a fish alive!"
In my defense I got it at the fair. Everyone knows the fish from the fair die right away. I thought I was doing a good thing, rescuing that fish and trying to give it a better life.

"Go tell your brother he can come in from laps now."
Ok, the kid was hyper. But, forced laps? At age 4? In his pajamas? I don't wonder for a minute why he doesn't speak to her.

"I can't believe you're married. Who cooks in that joint because God knows it isn't you."
I have tried to tell her I'm a fucking fabulous cook. AND I manage to get a meal to the table without 2 sticks of butter-her forte. My mother has no clear memory of how horrible a cook she really is. Her delusion is enviable. If trauma victims could learn to mentally mask the stuff she is able to, well, they would sure sleep well at night!

One quick cooking story....my brother, the marathon man, was born premature. He was realllly sick and didn't come home for a quite a while. He was/is ADD, ADHD and a true blue hypoglycemic. Very rare. You know your whiny coworker who complains of hypoglycemia because she missed lunch? Yeah, well, my bro would go into coma and nearly die about once a week all through childhood. More on that later. Bottom line-he couldn't tolerate artificial flavor or food coloring of any sort so we were the original organic kids. Of a mother who hates to cook. Of a mother who hates people who eat organic things. Anyway, we were at Friendly's Restaurant about 33 years ago for a special treat-grilled cheese (I think this was before they made American cheese on Venus). Well, the waitress brings them out, I look at our sandwiches and back at her.

waitress: Something wrong, sweetheart?

me: Uh, are these ok? They aren't black.

mom (with gritted teeth): It's okay, you can still eat them.

She waved the waitress away with her cigarette and we were in wonder of how a grilled cheese sandwich tasted without one side completely still smoking black. She took a lot of tranquilizers to 'deal' with having us. Nice, huh? This is the same woman who was astonished when I made Thanksgiving dinner. She told all who would listen about the holiday miracle.

NEWS FLASH: I'm a fucking fabulous cook!

Albeit one with obvious issues....
What can I say? Since my last post, well, things have been a little tough for me. Every day when I wake up I feel like I drank:
one bottle of expensive red wine follow by a bottle of ripple
a fifth of jack daniels
12 slippery nipples (the super sugary Sambuca topped with a Bailey's float)
and then had 2 deluxe cheeseburgers at the diner at 3 am.

I feel really bad. My skin is starting to threaten piiiimplllles and I can't seem to get my hair all the way clean. In truth I can muster the stamina for a shower only about twice a week. I can't smell regular smells but bad smells are INCREDIBLY apparent. On a recent shopping trip I felt like an alien. I could 'see' body odor coming at me. It was horrible. And then some chippie had on enough perfume to gag a horse. My poor husband. I smell like the homeless and if he has the tiniest hint of sweat-BAM-he's sent to the showers. I feel pretty.

On an interesting note, I've lost 7 pounds. I haven't exercised once in the past month but the fact that all food is pretty much unappealing is zipping off the pounds. I'm too weak to be excited.

The dogs... well, shocker but my rather-lax-attention-to-details brother wasn't right in his tip on the show about how to handle your dogs with an imminent arrival. I taped the show and watched most of it. How do those morning shows make any money?! It was stupid, insipid, the host sounds like a donkey, bad hair was everywhere and who the hell still makes those saucer sized cast earrings? Ugh. Wretched. And loads of cooking which was a lot of fun for me. So-the dogs....due to the fact that I'm spending an inordinate amount of time lying around doing nothing but spilling Saltine crumbs and slowly stroking Jack and Hobbes, well, they're into it.

We get up in the morning and move to the guest room which has a TV. The TV in the den is 4 times the size, but there is no bed in the den. I get a sleeve of Saltines, a big glass of gingerale, the phone and get into bed. The dogs drape themselves around me and we spend the day clicking between the Animal Channel and TBS. The TV in the den has satellite but, again, no bed so we suffer. It has gotten bad. The dogs now come out from under the covers when they hear the music for "K-9 To Five", a show about dogs that work. We are all embracing our laziness.

BUT... the dogs are really overly attached. They were 'all about mom' to begin with, but it is a little crazy now. They follow me to the bathroom and wait outside while I tinkle, then back into the bed we go. I am waiting for sores to appear on my side. Lovely, huh?

So, the test is right around the corner. We'll find out if there is a heartbeat... I guess I should say 'we'll hear the heartbeat' but I am still nervous. It must live, it is sucking me dry! We'll also find out how far off we are in calculating.. all the good stuff. If I can figure it out, I'll post the sonogram. The more I read of the upcoming indignities, the more I think it's a better idea to be surprised when it's too late to turn back. Hahaha.

Ok,well, this effort has really been a lot. I have to muster my strength for a trip to Barnes and Noble this afternoon and BabyGap for my friend Clare's twins Christening, which I slept though yesterday.....
My sleeping is really out of whack. I am sleepy all the time but not often able to GET to sleep. I'll feel a lot better once I've had the initial ultra-sound. The more I read in 'What To Expect...', the more frightened I become.

My brother called from some bar where he was having lunch and left a message that we MUST watch CBS Morning show. Evidently there is a bit on what to do when your dogs have been number one and now you're expecting a child. This should be interesting.

My dogs are totally, and I do mean totally, spoiled. By me. I love their heads off! I talk to them all the time, they follow me around the house. They're rather rude to Bear, transparent little fellows all around. We'll see how this goes.
Probably did ok on my exam. Winged a bunch of it. My prof is lovely but pretty much unintelligible. Thick accent. Makes PoliSci fuuuuun.

Boring to say but I'm so tired. I'm thinking of making a bunch of t-shirts that say just that, but I'm also hopeful this will pass.

My cousin had a baby 7 months ago with his girlfriend. She is 28, 2 kids already. They did no testing. Mia was born with trisomy 18. Fatal. Usually right away. She died Friday night. My cousin wouldn't let go of her for 6 hours. Not good. My aunt said she could hear him sobbing from outside the house. Again-not good. He was a Latin King. Got out-successful now. Great guy. Sobbing that hard. I hope he'll be okay.
I know I'm slacking but I'm up to my eyeballs in Comparative Political Systems.

Still tired but getting excited. My 'cycle' is officially laaaattttteeeeee.
I have to say that my husband is pretttty excited at the prospect of all of this. Maybe-a little too excited. Last night he got home LATE from ferrying top secret *stuff* all over the east coast yesterday. I was watching tv and doing laundry completely half-heartedly. He had a snack with me (I'm really only comfortable eating at night) and we went upstairs to bed. Then it gets interesting...

me: God! My boobs are HUGE! Can you see the difference? (I was talking to him as he was walking into the bathroom. For some reason I've developed the bad habit of only speaking to him when there is only a small possibility that he can actually hear me.)

him: (backing out of the bathroom, toothpaste foaming..) Did you say something about someone's boobs?

me: Yessss. Mine! Don't they look bigger?

him: Uh, I can't really tell. Push them up. (I foolishly do.) Now, lick your lips.

Great. A pervert is born. We are both kinda freaked about how to 'proceed maritally' in the next little while. I will just be happy when the nausea and boob expanding stops. The rest we can take care of with the lights off....
The good news is--having my breasts a full size bigger already and having screaming hormone headaches in the morning is normal.

The bad new is--I already had huge tits once and didn't so much care for it and I STILL HAVE A FUCKING HEADACHE. And I'm tired.
I yawned about 412 times during class tonight BUT-I still got it :) Good grade on my test. I like my comedy class. And not just because I got a good grade. We are studying Pinter-what a trip. Finally a playwright that gives my family a place to exist.

I'm tired. What else is new lately?! Bear just got a package for Hobbes, the scaredy-cat pitbull. Shoes so he won't be cold this winter. Last year he got cold fast so Bear found these great neoprene dog shoes. One problem is they have velcro. Hobbes is a little scared of the noise that velcro makes. This oughta be great! I'll have to video Bear trying to get Hobbes into his shoes. I'll probably win an award somewhere! Hahahahaha. Oy, that's rich.

Off to bed. First thing tomorrow I'm shipping out pink Ugg boots to a woman who's having a baby on Saturday. I love Ebay :)
WELL... I've been gone for a while but the good news is-I can now be topical. As in, on topic. One quick thing first... I'm reminded because the mailman is delivering mail now, at 1:06pm, and yesterday he was here at 4:45pm. He used to come right on the dot of 12:30, but now it's a crapshoot. I think he's having an affair. Or he's drinking a lot. Something's up.

Where was I? Oh-PREGNANT. I was feeling funky on the Friday after Thanksgiving and decided to run a pee test that my docs office gave me. O-fish-ol. Well, two lines and I have no idea where the directions are. In my feng-shui frenzy, I separated the test and the pamphlet. Brilliant, huh? So, I'm on the internet looking up the FAQs on the test (what did we do before the net???) and I found it. It was so technojargony that it I actually had to READ it, and found out I am high in the old hCG. Wowza.

So it begins. I called the doc's office and I have an appointment for my first ultrasound on January 2nd. I'll start telling people around the third month because so much can happen. Telling people that aren't strangers, that is ;) I told my PoliSci class last night. One girl said, "You really look like hell. Are you ok?" I told her the dark circles are a mystery cuz I'm sleeping 10-12 HOURS A DAY!!! because I'm pregnant. Everyone's eyes shot to my ring finger. High comedy. My prof did let me go early when I turned green. Bonus treatment already and I'm not even showing!

I had my list of questions for the doctor all ready and organized to assail him when he called.

yes, with lots of handwashing. Bear has taken this duty, bless his soul.

I HAVE A TILTED UTERUS (he knows this, I was just reminding him)
no problem. evidently it becomes untilted as it reaches impossible limits of expansion.

no real answer. i can continue to exercise, don't do it til I feel like fainting. I love this guy!

again, wash hands a lot and don't eat any cat shit.

Tylenol and only Tylenol. It will be the first time in my life I buy NON generic painrelievers...

this gave him pause for some reason. then he said, sure.

I should but in the 2nd trimester which will be a useless time. so-no. yippee. I hate having something dead and bad shot into my body anyway. I've only had the flu once or twice. It wasn't so bad. You feel thin after all that vomiting.

Yup, I'm quite possibly going to be a MOM.


Feeling better today-at last. Last night was pretty bad and my husband left for Vancouver at 4:30 this morning and he wasn't too excited about leaving me alone:) Luckily, we live in the burbs and have incredibly nosey neighbors so I'm sure if I did decide to hang myself someone would know where we keep the extra key and bust right in, cut me down, and make me some homemade chicken soup.

I guess I should clarify that even when I get downdowndoooowwwwwnnnnnn, I have never felt suicidal. There.

The 'touch-down' dates, as it were, this month are the 25th, 26th, and 27th. And we'll have, let's see, 12 additional people in our house for Thanksgiving. This oughta be good. If I do end up pregnant this month you'll know there was some serious effort put forth between entertaining, baking, cooking, cleaning and shmoozing to be humping:)

My dogs are so cute today. Jack was sitting on my head along the back of the chair while I was studying and Hobbes had his 60# pitbull butt in my lap looking out the window. I don't get much done when they're draped on me, but I like it. Warm puppies. Mmmmmm.
I got to therapy today but it was the wrong day so now I don't know what day I'm supposed to go and I feel like a lunatic today. I wish I had a better tolerance for alcohol cuz I'd start drinking right now. But I have school tonight so that's out of the question.

My husband is coming home from work early to get ready for a trip tomorrow. Boy am I going to miss him. The middle of the week is so busy with school and all that jazz but it is nice to be next to him. He's warm:)

I started shopping for the family that we adopted for Christmas. We do it every year through an agency in town and it is my favorite part of the consumer frenzy that is Christmas. I put the 'Christ back in Christmas' all the time with "Jesus CHRIST look at that line!" and "For CHRIST'S sake could you move your cart out of the middle of the most narrow aisle in here?" and "If I don't know where tissue paper is, isn't it a fair assumption I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE CHRIST THE PAPER IS THAT IT IS RIGHT NEXT TO??" I know, but all the interesting people I know don't stand a shot at Heaven, either....

I told my husband if we have a child I want to raise the child Jewish. Being that he is the uber-wasp and I'm a non-practicing Episcopalian, I'd better get cracking. This should be great! I read a story recently (For the Relief of Unbearable Urges--a collection of brilliant short stories) about a man who has an epiphany in a cab that he has a Jewish soul. That explains how I feel, and have felt for some time. More on that later.

So, being that I got up at the crack of dawn, all the comforters are at the wash/dry&fold joint so a comfy nap is out of the question-I guess I'll do some laundry. Maybe clean my desk. I usually find money when I do that.....
Wowza. Yesterday I spent the day at a Dance Competition in the Hynes Auditorium in downtown Boston. The very first thing about that and how it relates to maybe-child is: I most sincerely hope that kid gets anyone else's sense of direction. It didn't help that YahooMaps, which should be named 'I can't believe you actually got there maps!', had me getting off on a mythical exit named 'Avenue of the Arts.' It didn't sound familiar to me, either. I drove right by Copley Square exit which I knew was in the vicinity and right on toward Cambridge. So, I had a nice tour of the BigDig and Logan is looking greeeaaaaaat.

I finally found the place and a great parking spot in the garage. Yeah for me.

I went up to the third floor to find my god-daughter and her little Vermont Academy dance troupe. What I happened upon looked like a pre-stripper convention. I could go on and on but let it suffice to say that it was just plain creepy.

I watched the competition for age group 7-10 and asked my friend about twenty times, "This is 7-10??!!" I can understand the makeup so they can be seen from the floor. I understand about a lot of things regarding theatre. What I don't understand is half shirts, little dresses with panties poking out, dances where LITTLE GIRLS rub their hands across their chests and shake their hips. I was so uncomfortable there. It made me really sad. Our maybe-child will learn to dance as a way to learn about his/her body and how it works and its power. Our maybe-child will never look like a mini-hooker. The only thing missing at this dance competition was a big pole at center stage. Ugh.

I am concerned with how to address all these things with a child. My god-daughter LOVES jazz and LOVES tap and LOVES acting. Her mom in the best. Balanced with great common sense about what is acceptable and not acceptable. I see her guide my little A through tough decisions and lets the little one find the right answer. Little A wants to be an actor and it's not bias saying that she is special and has a gift. Her mom and I want to take her to some open calls to see what happens. She is phenominal, adorable, brilliant and such a great looking little kid. I don't want to have to break a nose of an adult who is rude or disrespectful to her. And I pity the fool.......

One bridge at a time. Having my 20 year younger sister with us for a while helped me to feel like 'I can do it.' I think a lot just comes up from inside you somewhere. Hopefully by this point I've developed my moral compass to the point where it merits sharing. I will not,however, tell my child about partying til 4am, deciding I need a nap-at a party in a little black dress-waking up 2 hours later all curled up on the couch, and starting up on the Veuve again. Nope, some things are better left unsaid. That's what I say.
And as these things go-I'm feeling better today. I went to my therapist yesterday and we talked about the hotspot/triggers and all that jazz. EMDR on monday should get me back up and running. It's been an incredible experience that has helped greatly.

My husband is the best. Totally hooked me up yesterday. Brought home Popeye's for dinner. Gave me 2 rolls and didn't make fun when I ate them both. I'm headed to the spin-cycle as we speak. I'm not going to let myself get off for a full hour. And that is probably only one bisquit... but boy are they fabulous.

I had a looooong conversations with my best friend SJ this morning about TV and how scary it is to me. I think if you break down the messages and morals in the average 30 minute cartoon, you'd be afraid too. I don't see letting our maybe-child watch a lot of tele. I think he/she will be able to deal with not being familiar with all the Rugrats Adventures. I know I am...

Well, I have to do some moving around the house today. I have to rewrite a story for submission to a contest, do some homework, write an english paper, do some laundry, go grocery shopping and that should get me through to tonight. Not so interesting today, but at least I'm out of bed. The dogs are psyched.

And then there's the whole issue of depression. I don't think I'm a sufferer, it's more situational. Like as it relates to Thanksgiving. I lost one of my dearest friends on a gorgeous, sunny, perfect Vermont heading into winter day, the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. It's been 10 years now. I was able to completely avoid the holiday for about 5 years. Then my friends, my good ones, started trying to help me not be such a nut about it. Those were some horrible holidays. I usually left crying by halfway through dinner. One year my dog Jack attacked a yellow lab puppy. I felt guilty because I was sure he was just channelling my angst and I yelled at him and wouldn't let him ride on my lap. He just gave me these really sad eyes and I had nothing for him. The good thing about holiday weekends is if you decide to stay in bed for 4 days, not bathe or speak, get up only to pee, well, no one notices.

The heaviness in my chest got better with EMDR therapy. I feel stupid to still be affected at this time but I have that old heaviness back again. I'm a bitch. I'm in a bad mood. My dog barking at the cookie jar on the counter doesn't make me smile, it makes me want to clonk him on the head with something that will make a lot of noise. Everything makes me cry. I won't take drugs so I'm just hanging around in a puddle of tears. I'm going to make up with the dogs and lie in bed and at least do homework. Ugh.

So, I hope our maybe-child doesn't get the blues, too.
It is a gorgeous day-clear and crisp. Not a cloud in the sky. My husband gets up and decides he wants to go for a motorcycle ride. I tell him it's way too cold. I tell him it's not supposed to get above the low 40's today. I tell him a ride today would be unpleasant, at best! He asks if I want to go with him. Again, I wonder if he listens to me when I speak. I'm pretty sure he's just looking at my mouth.

So, he just got home after a twenty minute ride. He said that his legs are numb. He said that he had to pull over and put his hands on the tank to warm them up. He said that as he was riding he could 'feel his nuts pulling up into his body to get away from the cold assault.' His nose is bright red and his lips are blue. His nipples are so hard that I caught my ring on one when I hugged him. He says, "Boy! I'll have to see if it warms up before I go back out again!"

Half of the gene pool. Something to consider.

Of course, he does have his brilliance. He is making 'cheesy eggs', his specialty. I don't know how he does it or what he uses but they are the best damned eggs on the planet. Every time. And he loves to make them so I think that's why they taste extra delicious. My man. Love that guy.
I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday. I saw the El Greco, Domenikos Theotokopoulos for you fellow geeks, exhibit which is extensive and breath-taking. I will be emailing my art history professor to thank him once again. I understood where Mannerism was expressed. I saw where he was preoccupied with the rendering of robes in his neoclassical work. I recognized his Pieta as such and was able to compare it to Michelangelo's sculpture my mind's eye. In short--I was informed and stoked. I completely and thoroughly overwhelmed my friend L, who was at the museum for an assignment. I shared my thoughts with her and flew around that place like a drunk bird. Her eyes were like those spirally black optical illusiony loops you see in cartoons. One exhibit and she was shot. She ended up buying the book and I bet we have to go back again! Yippee!

If you have the opportunity, you should get to the Met to see it.

On another note... I told my husband no less than a dozen times that L and I were going to the museum in the afternoon. I told him that we were driving and my other friend T was driving down from Vt and catching a ride into Manhattan with us. His girlfriend lives there and it's easier to park in our neck of the woods and take the train the rest of the way than to try to find parking and all that jazz in the city. SO, we three went into New York around 3:30, as I had told him a dozen times we would. In the car the phone rings. I feel it necessary to say that I told him again on Friday afternoon before he left to do an errand of my plans in the city.


me: Hi honey. (caller ID, mais oui)

him: Where are you?

me: Are you serious? L, T and I are heading into Manhattan.

him: T is with you? I thought he was coming down at Thanksgiving. How come he's with you? And who's car with VT plates is in our driveway? Is it his?

me: Uh, yeah, that's his car.

him: Funny thing? When I came home I thought something had happened with your mom's divorce and she was here and it was her car!! I snuck in the back door and then remembered her plate so I shined the flashlight out the kitchen window to check the plate and it isn't hers. You know that, right?

me: That it isn't her car?

him: Yeah! It's T's, right?

me: Uh, again, that is his car.

him: Ok. So, where are you going?

Cut to today. We're in the car and I tell him that I have absolute proof that he doesn't ever listen to what I say.

him: Huh?

me: That whole deal yesterday. I told you so many times all this week that I was going and T was driving down from Vermont and all that jazz.

him: Look. I have ADD so bad that it requires therapy. You should feel lucky I remember you, ok?

me: Yeah, that's true.

So, we have many good things to pass on to our maybe-child. Love, a sense of humor, nice hands and feet. The only challenge will be the kid finding his way home from school everyday.

I may be approaching the age where it is getting near the point where I might run the risk of having a difficult pregnancy but...... I still kick butt.

I got in a fight with a dick from Ebay. He sent me a broken fax machine. I wanted my money back. He offered me half. This all took a month I told him to get bent. Actually, I told him this exactly:

okay jerkoff

I am reporting you to Ebay. The facts will bear out as listed in your
auction (ie: no insurance offered) which I have saved even though I doubt
you lack the tech-savvy to take the page down. Today I made a $50 donation to a
couple of blind kittens to negate the gross feeling I have after dealing with a
scumbag like you.

Per my attorney's advice, I repeatedly stated that I wanted your address so
I could mail it back to you and this email proves you refused to provide
your address for said purpose. I will decide upon advice of counsel whether
to place a claim in small claims court here, in my state, file a federal
complaint for mail fraud, or just leave you to your stupid little life. I am
blocking your further emails as you have repeatedly refused to comply with
my request for your address. Best of luck to you and may you get all you so
richly deserve.

My make-believe lawyer probably scared the snot out of this idiot. He hasn't mailed back. I know this cuz my stupid server doesn't allow me to block email. Who ever heard of such a thing? As soon as I have some quality time, I'm shopping for a new host. Yah, that's it.

Hey. He called me 'Ebay Princess.' He's lucky I don't drive to his house on the West Coast and stuff the thing up his stupid ass. Hahahaha.
I've started working out in earnest, every day, until I actually sweat and am somewhat sore. I've always been a little 'thick', but not unattractively so. As I sliiiiiide toward 40 I am having irrational fears about waking up one morning, heading into the bathroom for a tinkle, coming back to bed to find my ass is still in bed. Stuff like that really motivates me to make use of the gym! Also, if I do have a child, I want it to have a nice place to grow. Then I'll be having a tummy tuck anyway. Shallow but true.

I spent some time with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law today. I may just be the luckiest damned broad on the planet but I really like both of them. So shoot me.

The day is shooting away from me a little bit today. I have spent some time working but for the most part, totally farting around. I've invited 20 people for Thanksgiving so mostly I'm looking for good recipes. If you have any, shoot them to me. I also coordinated a happy hour where people will bring toys for our local Children's Crisis office. Good stuff. Now I have to convince my friend C to design a postcard for free. She'll totally do it. I hope. Yah, she'll do it.

Ok then. I'm actually going to walk away and do something physical now. Call the papers.
Yeah, so, our mother always told us we were Venezuelan. She told some whoppers in her time but that one really represents some of her best work. I remember asking her about our ‘real’ father. She made the face, slammed herself down on my bed and asked what I would want to know about a terrible person who wasn’t interested in whether or not we lived or died. I took that to mean she didn’t really wish to discuss the issue. So I asked the cursory questions:

me: Where is he from?
mom: Falmouth. (In Massachusetts, where she’s from.)
reality: Racine Wisconsin

me: What nationality is he? I mean, we know you're Scottish and English but we have dark hair and eyes. What gives?
mom: He was Venezuelan. His parents were political refugees but I think they were guilty of terrible things.
reality:My father is almost completely Mexican. His father was a crop picker (is that the term?!) and my crazy grandmother's family had a ranch and she got pregnant by a migrant worker, my grandfather. One of my great great grandmothers was some sort of Native American Indian, I've seen pictures of her in full dress.

me: Does he know our names?
mom: He knows yours, not your brother’s and I don’t think he’d remember yours.
reality: Had his sister contact my mother quite often until mom changed our phone number.

me: Do you have any pictures of him?
mom: Why would I want pictures of someone who beat me and hates you kids?
reality: In a box in her closet. They looked pretty happy.

me: What if I needed to contact him someday, about some medical issue or something?
mom: Why would you want to break my heart like that? Do you really hate me that much? Have I been such a bad mother?
reality: Ah, no?

I think I’ll be honest with my maybe-kid. I’m even thinking of ditching the whole Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth fairy/Painless Dentist charade. My maybe-kid will be savvy but I wouldn’t let him/her spoil it for other kids. So savvy, and considerate. Yeah.
There are many reasons I look to genetic research to disprove my worst fears. My gene pool is shallow, could use some chlorine, has 2 headed goldfish... you know the jokes. But I'm relatively well adjusted. I guess. Well, I am discussing all my issues surrounding child-bearing in public, with strangers. But hey! In my family that IS well adjusted. So.... while we wait to get pregnant I'll occasionally share stories of family so we can all pray together if/when I do get knocked up.

Last night my mother left a message, "Ah, please call me regarding your immunizations. I have something to talk to you about."

Of course I freak out. I was thinking of when I found out I was half Mexican, not Venezuelan as I'd grown up thinking. Yeah, I'll probably have to explain that one, but later. Maybe tomorrow if you're good.

me: Jesus H Christ. What now?

my husband: What? What could it be? You have that dimple on your arm, right? You must have had all the important shots.

me: You don't know my mother. She thought flouride was a government conspiracy. We couldn't take it in school. I was the only kid with a note absolutely forbidding the dispension of those cool red tablets THAT EVERYONE ELSE TOOK AND SWISHED! I have a cavity EVERY TIME I GO TO THE DENTIST!!! She thinks the moon landing was faked. She is very inventive. If she thought the vaccinations of childhood were linked to some sort of plot, she would have burned me with a cigarette to falsify my innoculation mark. Then she would have badgered some poor nurse into thinking she already gave me the shot. "Look! The mark! Could that be faked?! No!!!She's marked! Sign the release form!" I'm probably at risk of dying from some stupid disease that only people in Third World nations are getting. Ahhhhhh!

my husband: You're right. I hate to say it, but you should call her.

me: Ok


me: Hi mom. So, what's up with the immunizations?

mom: Well, I was reading that kids on college campuses are getting
meningitus. You should get a shot. A girl I went to catholic school with died
when we were in third grade. I just worry about you.

me: Thank God. I thought you faked my childhood innoculations.

mom: Don't be ridiculous. What on earth would make you think that?

*sigh* Now watch me die of meningitus and she'll tell everyone she told me so. Great, now with all the work I have to do in Comparitive Political Systems and the Sociology of Education, I have to f-ing study up on meningitus.

It never ends.
Just did another pee test. I should keep track of menstrual crapola here because I really am horrible at doing it in my calendar. I'm going to eat sushi because if I am pregnant, no more sushi. I know that doesn't make sense but it makes more sense than this true story....

My grandmother is a tad bit loopy. She is a bunch younger than my grandfather, she's blond and was a wicked babe back in the day. It is the time of the big Tylenol scare....

me: Gram, you have Tylenol in your medicine cabinet. Haven't you seen the bizillion warnings about Tylenol?

gram: I know, I know. I'm not going to take any of those until the scare is over.

She is not biologically related to me, although I've often thought it's a shame.
I got up at five am and walked three miles with my man and our dog-sons. Then I wrote a paper on the play within a play vehicle that Shakespeare uses in Hamlet and Midsummer Night's Dream. That took me 5 hours because A) the paper sucked and B) I knew it sucked so I tried to rework it without rewriting it. Time consuming. Then I wrote two character analysis in sonnet form. The question is this: how on earth would I have gotten that done with a small human hanging off my boobie? I'm going to have scheduling issues, I can tell already.
I think I'm too easily influenced to be an effective parent....

I was at the tax assessor's office today trying to avoid paying taxes for a car I sold TWO YEARS AGO! Don't these people communicate? Anyway, the nice lady in the office where you PAY your taxes (different place) asked me what kind of motorcycle I have. I had my shiny red helmet with me... she said she was going to buy a bike in the spring. I told her if I get pregnant she can buy mine for a good deal. Well, then she told me about her neighbors. They both have bikes and on Saturday they find someone to watch their young kid and they go riding. Immediately I thought "WE should do that. We should keep our motorcycles and go on Saturdays." I suspect that basis of that argument is: "The lady at the tax offices' neighbors have kids and motorcycles." Whine when you say that.
Speaking of lesbians....

The couple behind us at dinner was going at it last night. Not in the way that makes men happy, either. More in the way that makes men happy they are single...

she1: It's always the same with you. There you were, making plans, never consulting me. I was just sitting there like a jerk and you were making all these plans and agreeing to things for both of us. Never asked me what I thought. Not once.

she2: What are you talking about?

she1: It's exactly like last Christmas.

she2: Christmas?

she1: This isn't going to work out. It just isn't. You do whatever it is you feel like you need to do and that's fine.

she2: What I need to do?

At this point I had to make a fake bathroom trip because I was certain that she2 was a man with a high voice. Specifically, the technique of what? followed by the repetition of a phrase, any phrase, lifted from the previous sentence spoken by your partner. Such the guys way to participate in an argument. Very strange.

Nothing on the pregnancy front. My vitamins make me sick to my stomach so I have to have them with breakfast, which I don't eat so it's getting a bit tough to remember to take them every day. Fascinating, huh?

On another strange note.... I was doing research for a project and, ironically, I found myself reading all about infertility. Fortunately, I'm not at the worrying phase so it was just plain interesting. UNTIL..... ever heard of spontaneous twins? Yea, me neither. Well, it turns out that if you have been busy having a career, or professional atheletes or whatever you did during your 20s and early 30s, you body didn't forget about the whole procreation thing. If fact, your body has been stockpiling.

Spontaneous twins. All the 40-something mothers with twins in designer strollers in my neighborhood... I used to think to myself "Fertility drugs". Now I know better. It turns out that in some sort of push to breed, a woman's body will release MULTIPLE EGGS to get the job done. I recently read a study that says that we long in the tooth broads may be releasing eggs MORE THAN ONCE A CYCLE. I'm a pregnancy time bomb. I feel like an inside-out sushi roll, with eggs all OVER the outside of me.


I have to go read about adolescent psychosis so I'm prepared for school and motherhood.