Leaving Las Vegas...

Gibran on Marriage:

THEN Almitra spoke again and said, And what of Marriage, master?
And he answered saying:
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but no into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

We took the plunge

Errr, Did we mention we got married?

Ruth, Ruth...Baby Ruth! (or "why today is marvelous")

1) It's 12:13 and I've STILL only eaten that bagel (About to have lunch and have resolved not to gorge myself on grossness).

2) The badger has a job. It may turn out to be crap, but it's a job, nonetheless.

3) Fufi and I leave for Vegas in three and a half days, where I fully intend to indulge in every possible...well, indulgence. Hellllooo facial.

4) Cancellation at Spa @ WestEnd has allowed for me to have my hair done on Saturday (there IS a God, and this is proof that He loves me).

5) No one has irritated me today.

6) Sloth love Chunk...

"Everything. OK! I'll talk! In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max's toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog."

Spend, Spend, Spend!!!

We are buying Captain Picard the new house today..Signing on the bottom line...

I hope you appreciate it Captain. Mummy and Daddy are now officially broke...

But we are very very happy that you are coming into our lives and that's what counts.

Everybody's workin' for the weekend

This picture just makes me smile. Was listening to the Killers today, and...ho hum. A little wistful. A little impatient already (the countdown to baby day has already begun). Note to self: self, start an Advent-like baby calendar.

So Jed and I have booked our trip to England (and Portugal--yah, Dave and John!!) for next August. The Captain will be about five months old...I'm voting on Jed to be the honorary "Picard carrier" (can't you just picture him with one of those things that go around your shoulders and hold the baby in front of you? How freakin' cute!). But--get this: we're flying FIRST CLASS. You heard right, nutjobs, in the front of the plane. Ok, am actually excited about this for myself (ahem, champagne, anyone?), but also for the kid. Y'all know they give you a basinette when you're up there away from the peasants? Who woulda thought? Wahoo!

Am hereby and officially OFF the Mexican food. Am also hereby and officially vowing to work out and stop being a lazy ass. Starting tomorrow.

Ellie goes to school

So little Ellie Belly had her first day of puppy training today. She was a model student, which is of course indication of what amazing and attentive parents we're going to be. No, really, she was very well-behaved, although I think most of that was a result of pure terror.

I, too, was well-behaved considering the lady next to us (and her family) fell directly from the mutant gene tree, and were barely tolerable. She had this kid, right, and he was honestly the most obnoxious creature I've seen in a VERA long time. Now, he's in the training area with us, and keeps interrupting the instructor and yelling (he had to be at least four or five) and making a complete ass of himself and his parents. Seriously. Plus, sorry, he wasn't even cute. Strike one and two. These things can be forgiven, but the worst thing about the entire scenario were the parents. The mom keeps saying to the husband (who's outside the training ring), "You need to get him [the kid] outta here." To which the dad replies, "I know, but he won't come." Y'all, this continued for at least five minutes, on two separate occasions. And the kid, in the meantime, is just...making strange bird-like noises and yelling out his dog's name (Taco, yeah, thanks, we got that).

OH-MY-GOD.

This is where, uh, ten minutes ago, I would have grabbed the little bastard by his ear and dragged him out to the car for a little hand-to-butt bonding. Who cares if you look stupid or mean or if it's embarassing?!? It's a hell of a lot more embarassing to have a pain-in-ass-kid, who, whenever strangers see him approaching, literally cringe in horror.

Theory 2: Misery Loves Company

I have a theory (no, not the one about the DMV). First let me say that other mothers, particularly the ones who haven't been pregnant in quite some time, are yanking on my second-to-last nerve. Let's face it, mes petites peus, I like to bitch. I love it. Nothing makes me happier than to respond to an unobtrusive, "so, howya feelin'?" with a detailed description of every single ailment that currently befalls me. Don't wanna know about my intense, frustrating constipation--the kind that's so bad that I live in constant fear of hemmoroids? Then don't ask. Don't care to hear about my bloated stomach, increasing cellulite, or tension headaches? Run the other way when you see me in the hallway. Does me discussing my toxic gas, cry fests, or sore nipples bother you? Eh, well. You have to understand, my pre-pregnancy conversations centered around martinis, theme nights, and dashing around downtown. Forgive me if my self-edit button and conversational apptitude have suffered in the wake of intense social calendar upheaval.

So anyway, back to my theory. The question/answer session described above does, in fact, have a point. It's that the people you'd think would be most sympathetic to your plight, namely women with children, are generally the first the run, tail between legs, from any pregnancy conversation (my mom is excluded from this unfair generalization, but she and I are very similar creatures). It's almost like I shouldn't dare complain about this "miracle," that to think of it as anything less than a beautiful experience, is an affront to motherhood. If I even begin to mention feeling a little vomity or horomonal, here come the disapproving looks and sideway glances. Flarva, flarva, flarva.

God, two paragraphs and still no theory. Forgive my extensive background--main point starts here, and this serves primarily as a missive to my childless friends. Do not let them fool you! Pregnancy, for the majority of us, isn't fun. It's not all warm fuzzies and hot chocolate and freakin' rainbows. You wanna know what it is? A sickness. Doesn't feel like a symbiotic relationship to me, not one bit. Now, don't send me hate mail about what a terrible person I am. First of all, I already know that. Secondly, thinking pregnancy is shite to be barely tolerated doesn't make me a baby hater, commie, or militant feminist. So shut your cake hole.

The reason, I reason, so many women talk about how lovely an experience pregnancy is....Well, chickens, here's the kicker: Because if they told the truth, NO ONE ELSE WOULD CHOOSE TO SUFFER WITH THEM. I can see it now. They all talk a big game, but they're snickering inside with evil glee when a girlfriend gets knocked up. I'll do the same, except I'll do it outloud. Mark my words.

'Oranges and Lemons' said the bells of St.Clements

Ok, So it's 6:30 in the morning and I get a nudge and Sara says "Wouldn't you just kill an orange?" And I say "no, not really" And she says " I could tear one up"
Welcome to the wonderful world of cravings....
Up to now there has been:
Pickles
Neon green pickle juice
Mexican food
skim milk
Burger King
Watermelon
and now -- oranges
Needless to say, Sara got her orange for breakfast.

Leave Them Kids Alone

Eh, so here I sit on yet another uneventful Wednesday night watching Dr. Phil. How long do babies stay awake once they can scoot around and crawl and such? Hmm...Cause this commercial just came on for some Fisher Price crap baby toy, and the mom was just crawling around the floor watching the kid. And all I can think is, "Jesus, how long will he play with that?" I mean, will I have time to poop in peace? Can I have a glass of wine whilst I watch the bean play with the super amusing, highly entertaining pile of plastic? You know, a more sentimental person would watch the commercial wistfully, maybe even get a tear in her eye. Barf. I'm like, "Lady--the kid is entertained. Take advantage."

Mmm...wonder if it makes me a bad to-be-mom that I'm already thinking of how to sneak in "me" moments (and if your answer is yes, have a nice tall glass of shut the hell up). I think not. Hey, if I'm happy, I'd wager that the Captain will likewise have a more pleasant existence. Ok, Jed just agreed; his opinion is, "if the baby's entertained, honey, have a cosmo." I love him.

Why Pregnancy....is Tolerable

1) The clothes are a lot cooler than they used to be. You can even buy Banana Republic maternity. Go figure.

2) People think I'm cute (or at least the belly). When I drop cheese dip all over my shirt, I'm no longer a slob--I'm awesome.

3) People think I'm helpless. "Oh, look, you shouldn't be carrying that stapler. Let me help you." Uh, that's ok by me.

4) New friends. Amazing really how moms talk to other moms (or to-be-moms). It's a club, and I'm a new and honorary member.

5) Thinking about the little bean growing in there, and picturing how precious s/he'll be. And stubborn. And snuggly. And smelly. (oh, look , is that alliteration or the other one?)

6) Picturing Jed holding the Captain.

An Aside

Merry Maids rocks.

Add "fruit of my loins" to my all-time grossest words/phrases (along with: moist, trousers, mount and tender).

SPILLS, THRILLS AND BELLYACHES

It’s amazing the things a prospective father has to go through during the course of his partner’s pregnancy.

SPILLS
Yes, I can confirm, Sara did pee in her panties.
Which I found hilarious and she found mortifying….
I love it. Poor Sara, she is so dignified at times but this pregnancy is shaping her into a real human being.

THRILLS
It is amazing when and where things become so overwhelming. I find that at times I want to sing from the rooftops and tell everyone in my immediate vicinity
“LOOK AT ME!!!……
I HAVE FULFILLED MY DESTINY!!!…
BEHOLD!!!.HERE IS THE WOMAN THAT CARRIES THE FRUITS OF MY LOINS”

BELLYACHES
And then there are moments of pure agony.
Of realization that my former life is over.
That there is no more spontaneous nights out.
That I have to be responsible
That someone is going to look to me…..me!…for guidance (what the hell do I know)
That I will have to start looking at college funds
That I will have to learn to mow the lawn
That I will have to tell my child not to do the things that I have spent my life doing.
That I will never be able to lie in bed until 2pm on a Sunday ever again.
And that I will not be cool any more.
These things make my stomach turn.
But up to now it is still an amazing adventure.

Things I Wish I Could Do/Why Pregnancy Sucks*

1) Go swimming in a great big bowl of VODKA SOUP. (I'd float around on a cocktail olive raft for days, leaning down with my silly straw to slurp up the world's biggest filthy martini)

2) Admire my naked body in the mirror after a shower. Oh, how I long for a flat stomach (and no one told me that my ass would get bigger as well).

3) Eat fried food without feeling nauseous. Come on, that's like the one friggin' joy have left, and now even that's been snatched away. Cripes.

4) Zits. Big ones, little ones. I feel like I'm in seventh grade again. And for a girl whose primary communication with God in middle school centered around having good skin (I'm not kidding), this is a BIG DEAL.

5) Gas. Does this really need an explanation? Condolences can be sent to jedfraser@aol.com.

6) I thought incontinence was supposed to happen after the little stinker is born. Au contraire -- Jed and I took Ellie on a walk yesterday, and I kinda peed in my pants. Just a little, mind you, but enough to mumble, "Uh oh."

7) Headaches. Ok, all the crap books tell me that the second trimester is the "honeymoon" of the pregnancy. So on top of having serious gas, peeing my pants, food aversions, and insomnia, now I feel like a tiny Fred Astair is tap dancing in my skull. With Sammy Davis Jr. And Gene Kelly.

*"Why Pregnancy Rocks" coming soon.

I'm not going to jail for you or anybody

Went to the DMV today with the beast, and it was everything I'd hoped it would be. Now, if you haven't checked out laferocebete.blogspot.com yet, you surely must, as it details our trip. Apparently I'm pretentious...who woulda thought?

You know, you don't often get the opportunity to be a raging asshole to civil servants and not feel the slightest amount of guilt over it. Not the slightest. As a matter of fact, it's exhilarating. Hmm. There's a thought. What if, pray tell, the DMV isn't really about motor vehicles and pissing me off? What if it's put there, by the wise and unseen hands that run this country, to provide an outlet to all citizens? It's like free anger management. No, I know you're thinking, "Oh, she's outta her mind," but hear me out...I think I'm onto something.

The DMV is the one place on earth you're permitted to be absolutely, positively arbitrarily angry. I almost look forward to going (seriously, ask Aubs), nearly dancing my way through the parking lot, intent upon acting like a complete infant in front of my fellow South Carolinians. Why? Because I know that for the next, oh, forty-five minutes (minimum) I have the liberty to: relentlessly mock the stupidity of others, berate the system in a loud and very public forum, and generally make a complete ass of myself. It's AWESOME. Now, if you're sitting there all unbelieving in your chair, thinking that I'm a nutso, that's probably because you, my little pea, have not yet experienced the extraordinary catharsis that can result from a particularly pissy trip to the DMV.

Today wasn't one of my better performances, although in the end, I got a new and valid license and a sticker saying, hey, Sara paid her taxes....AND, I got to irritate the hell out of an employee and her trainee. Dun, dun, dun, another one bites the dust.

Smeleanor

*Snicker, snicker* Jed's yellin' right now cause Ellie heard the telltale sign of the shower door closing, indicating it's time to sneak into the bathroom to lick Dad's wet legs. It's a riot. He dances around and groans trying to get away from her, and she just follows enthusiatically, all the while licking his shins. God only knows what the deal is with our animals and shower water. Jimmy No-Balls is all over it too; as soon as the shower stops, he's in there, licking the walls. We live in a freak show.

The Worst of Ideas...

Ok, I just drank like, half a jar full of pickle juice and now I'm rather ill. Super idea, self. See, it seemed like a fantastic thought about 15 minutes ago. I had a pickle, and it was great! I was inspired, as I haven't really wanted to touch the Mt. Olives in about a month and a half now. So, as always, I overdid it. In my pickle enthusiam, I proceeded to eat four spears and down the entire jar of neon green juice. Soon thereafter, I wanted to die. Am slowly recovering, although now am terrified of dehydrating the Capt with the pickly salt and vinegar, so am taking in massive amounts of water. Blerck. *Full body shiver*

So I'm sitting here at work, waiting for someone to break down and inquire about lunch before I do (it's only 11:40). I've been on the "pig yourself out until you wanna puke" diet as of late, and am rather determined to turn over a new leaf. I say that, of course, with the disclaimer that I'll eat well today so long as no one suggests a Bee Bee's burger. I, then, will have to eat such drivel with them so as to not make them feel inadequate as I would if I were instead having a protein smoothie and raisins. Wouldn't want anyone to feel bad, you know. God, someone call me about lunch.

Well, am off to visit the restroom -- result of the litres of water recently ingested. Good sign though. Perhaps little Picard isn't floating in a green sea 'o salt.

Kooks

Will you stay in our lovers’ story
If you stay you won’t be sorry
’cause we believe in you
Soon you’ll grow so take a chance
With a couple of kooks
Hung up on romancing

We bought a lot of things to keep you warm and dry
And a funny old crib on which the paint won’t dry
I bought you a pair of shoes
A trumpet you can blow
And a book of rules
On what to say to people when they pick on you
’cause if you stay with us you’re gonna be pretty kookie too

And if you ever have to go to school
Remember how they messed up this old fool
Don’t pick fights with the bullies or the cads
’cause I’m not much cop at punching
Other people’s dads
And if the homework brings you down
Then we’ll throw it on the fire
And take the car downtown

Will you stay in our lovers’ story
If you stay you won’t be sorry
’cause we believe in you
Soon you’ll grow so take a chance
With a couple of kooks
Hung up on romancing

Will you stay

-David Bowie