Cracklin' Rose, You're a Store-bought Woman.

I'm sick of summer. It really is true that if you leave the weather you're accustomed to, it only takes a couple of years to completely de-acclimate and re-acclimate to the new place. I'm certainly more cold-weather hearty than I ever thought I'd be, and I am much less hot-weather-ready than I used to be. Although to be honest, I've never liked the heat of August, regardless of where I lived. August in a record-breaking summer while 8 months pregnant is miserable. I told SNG that if we do this again, we're only going to "try" in July, August, or September, so I won't have to be pregnant (or at least, late in the term) during the hot months. If the pasta won't stick to the fridge* during that time, then it'll have to wait another year.

(* this refers to the old standard for testing done-ness of pasta by taking out a strand and throwing it at the fridge. More reliable than tasting it and certainly more fun.)

When we first moved here, and in fact for the first 4 summers we were here, I thought we were in summertime heaven. I still think it's a lot nicer than NOLA or Texas, since NC does occasionally get a week or 2 in the summer where the temperatures don't exceed the low 80s. But this year has just been uncomfortable.

Tomorrow I'm flying up to Boston, where the news says that the heat wave has broken. Yay! Not like it matters though, since I stay in a hotel at one end of a big shopping mall/ office building complex with skyways and the office is at another end of the shopping mall/ office building complex. Regardless of the weather, I'll be in climate-controlled 76 degrees. Yay again!

Tomorrow is also my 33 week appointment at the doctor. Last time I went in, they were well pleased because IHPE was head-down and in the chute, in an advantageous position for being born. Since she likes to do the Safety Dance and Hand Jive, my bladder was getting pretty well pummeled for the last 4 weeks, but it was still nice to know that if I spontaneously went into labor, say, NOW that everthing would still come out OK.

Over the weekend, while I was dancing to some catchy tune (Cracklin' Rose by Neil Diamond, with apologies to ANYONE with half-decent taste in music and even bigger apologies to my mom for having just said that), IHPE got really wiggly. Dancing, of course. But it felt suspiciously like a "flip." And today, her head is in my right-side rib cage. OH NO! Breech! And she's about big enough that it was probably a Herculean effort to make that flip and I don't know that we can expect her to flip back the right way again. So I guess tomorrow I'll ask the doctor whether we need to pencil in an appointment for a c-section just in case her days as a dancing acrobat are over.

SNG will probably say that she was flipping to try to hide from that song. He was hiding under the furniture but you can't NOT sing and dance to that song. However awful it may be. (sorry, mom)

Air Travel Adventure Time Again! Or, Why I Love Summer Travel

Monday I left for Chicago, and naturally there were some delays. I was pleased, however, to only arrive in Chicago about an hour and a half later than scheduled. Since there were several conferences in town that week, I stayed at a hotel I don't usually stay at, but I might pick it again. It was an Embassy Suites (fridge! microwave! separate living room!) across the street from a big, nice grocery store and about half-way between Navy Pier and The Good Part of Michigan Ave. It was also only about an 8-9 block walk from the office and 2 blocks from the best italian restaurant downtown, and that's a fact!! (in my opinion). Guaranteed!! (not a guarantee). If you're ever in Chicago, check out Volare at the corner of Grand and Santa Clara. Good prices, terrific service, great food, loud and crowded. Get a reservation.

The plan was to fly home Thursday evening after class, arrive in Raleigh a bit before midnight, work Friday, and fly to Austin after work on Friday afternoon. Then I'd spend a fabulous weekend in Austin with family and friends, and fly home on Monday at the crotch of dawn and go straight to work.

But O'Hare had other plans. I should have suspected something was up when I never received notification that my first-class upgrade request went through. When I arrived at the airport, the airline had annouced that my flight home was cancelled and there was no way to get me home that night. They offered to put me on standby for a flight the next morning, but there were LOTS of people already on that stnadby list, so my chances weren't great. I decided it would be easy enough to work from the Austin office on Friday, so I asked to be rebooked on a flight directly to Austin. I could just wash a few things and buy some more things when I got there, since all I had were 2 workout outfits and 3 business dresses.

The Austin flight was full. I was 3rd on the standby list. No one on standby made it onto the plane, including the poor guy who had left India 30 hours before and was trying to get home to Austin.

Then I made friends with the nicest lady at O'Hare, Yolanda. She had been rebooked for a Houston flight, planning to rent a car, drive, and get to Austin around 3am. I asked if she wanted company, and she said sure, so we teamed up to rent a car from Houston to Austin, and everything was working out. Until the Houston flight cancelled. By this time, of course, every flight out of O'Hare was cancelled, so there were somewhere around 100000 people with nowhere to go, and the hotels were filling up fast. Yolanda and I managed to reserve the last room at a Doubletree in the distant suburbs and get rebooked for flights to Dallas and then to Austin the next day (there was no way to get to Raleigh in time to make the flight from Raleigh to Austin, so it was really the only choice). After waiting over an hour for a cab, we got to the Doubletree around 11:30 and they rolled out the red carpet for us-- cookies, free breakfast coupons, replacement deodorant, the whole 9.

After a 6am wake up call, we caught a limo to Midway airport, I left my cell phone in the car, and spent 35 minutes trying to explain to the gate agent why I was going to Austin from Midway airport when I had been scheduled to go from O'Hare to Raleigh the night before, and making sure I still had a ticket from Austin to Raleigh at the end of the weekend. This was, clearly, too much to comprehend. After several false starts and nearly having my Austin-Raleigh reservation cancelled, they FINALLY figured out that, yes, I had to get to Austin today even though I didn't go to Raleigh yesterday and I had to get back to Raleigh Monday even though I didn't go to Raleigh today and that these had been, in fact, two separate itineraries even though I didn't go to Raleigh yesterday and that yes, I really was supposed to be flying out of Midway airport this morning even though I was supposed to fly out of O'Hare last night to go to Raleigh and that I really did have to get to Austin today even though I was supposed to go to Raleigh last night and I definitely had to be confirmed on a flight home to Raleigh in a few days even though I didn't go to Raleigh yesterday.

Anyway, now I'm here. My cell phone arrived in the mail at my house yesterday and the sweet Polish lady who drove the limo will get a nice, generous tip in the mail from me, and I'm absolutely having the time of my life with all my aunts, girl cousins, sister-in-law, brother, dear friends, and mom. My twinkies (brief backstory: there are 4 siblings in my mom's generation, and each had one and only one daughter, so the 4 of us are the Twinkies-- more like sisters than cousins) threw a baby shower for me, mom and her sisters made wonderful food, we had a fantastic party, and IHPE has had a TON of attention. I can't think of a better way to spend a weekend. SNG is home missing out on the estrogen-fest, but I think he'd have enjoyed himself in spite of all the "ooh"ing and "aah"ing over bibs, onesies, pacifiers, little dresses, and two gorgeous hand-knitted blankets.

Gosh, what else to say? I will fill in with a few pictures later, but for now I just wanted to vent about the crazy travel adventure and dish over the wonderful weekend that followed.

Cankles and Other Fun Stuff-- Prenatal Whining Warning

On Monday I went in for my 30-week visit and used the opportunity to raise some heck about the superfluous shot-in-the-behind and get a copy of my complete medical records. If you or someone you know is expecting, I'd suggest that they get a copy of at least their most recent ultrasound and basic bloodwork results from the Ob chart. That way, if they ever need medical care outside of normal office hours, especially away from home, they won't have to wait for the provider to track down records before providing medical attention. This was a suggestion made to me by the doctor in Michigan, and I think she had a really good point. So we got my records, SNG scanned them into a PDF, and I've got it stored on the memory stick that lives on my work badge. And good timing, with three more trips to go before I'm grounded.

FYI, the MI doctor said that the things they most needed to know were whether I had gestational diabetes, my blood type, and whether I had a previa placenta (if I said that right-- it's where the placenta sits really low and can be a little troublesome). Anything more is lagniappe.

While I was at my doc on Monday, he asked whether I'd had any bleeding gums, swelling in the extremities, etc. I was so proud that I've had no bleeding gums, and the only swelling I've had was my ankles when we drove home from Michigan-- and 20 hours in the car with make ANYONE's ankles swell up.

I spoke too soon. By the time I got back to my office, my right ankle had doubled! I had a cankle! Just one! And it was so uncomfortable!

I decided that it could have been caused by a lot of things, including eating too much sugar, not drinking enough water (that's unlikely- I drink a lot of water), sitting at my desk too much (better go home from work, aww shucks!) and not elevating my feet enough.

I spent Monday and Tuesday with my foot elevated, and sleeping with 5 pillows at night (head, front support, back support, under feet, and squeezed in my arms). It didn't help. I had still been walking and doing water aerobics, but that didn't help much. Then yesterday afternoon I switched to tennis shoes at work, and cut out sugar for the whole day. Today the cankle is gone, replaced by my a normal ankle again. We'll see how long that lasts. I guess I should consider myself lucky that I made it to 30 weeks without swelling feet, and even still it's just one ankle. A lot of women start getting swelling in 2nd trimester.

Today I visited my dentist, who was pleased with the status of my teeth and gums. He agreed that not visiting the dentist while pregnant will cause you to have a 3-headed baby, but also suggested that if I didn't like my job, I could quit and take the 3-headed baby on tour. We'd make a fortune. But, alas, I have visited the dentist, so no circus babies for us. Sorry, SNG. It could've been our big chance at fame.

What else? Next week I'm teaching in Chicago. I want to figure out a way to teach in tennis shoes. Maybe if I stay behind the desk the entire time? After Chicago I leave almost immediately for a long weekend in Austin with all the girls. Can't wait!

I'm almost a week late in posting about the trip. We got home from vacation last Monday night, but it's been nutty at work ever since.

The Marquette trip was fantastic. I've posted some pictures here. The pics might load a little slowly, and for that I apologize. Just open it in a new window and let it load in the background, you know?

Hey, remember that Rhogam shot I told you about? You know, the shot-in-the-tooshie that cost me $134.14, that my insurance company first said they wouldn't cover, and then said they'd cover but with a $60 co-pay? Yeah, that one. Well, it's a funny story...

While on vacation, for reasons unrelated to this post, I had to pay a little visit to a doctor in Marquette (no big deal, everything is fine) and since it was after hours and my doctor's office was closed, they requested my records from the hospital back home. Bla bla bla, I mentioned in passing to the doctor that I'd had a Rhogam shot the Friday before, and she screwed up her eyes and asked, "Why did you have a Rhogam shot? It says here that you are O-positive!"

Long story short, after a few calls to the doctor back home, it turns out that I am NOT Rh-negative, and did not, in fact, need a Rhogam shot in my bootie, putting me out at least $60 and a half day of work. Somebody had transcribed the results of my blood-typing incorrectly at some point and it came back to bite me in the butt at 28 weeks.

JIVE TURKEYS!

Grr. Grrrrrr grr. Grr. Blood will flow in the streets of Raleigh! Heads will roll! Do not mess with the pregnant lady!

Well, not really. I'm sort of over it now. No harm was done in having the shot unnecessarily, the doctor's office is going to reimburse me for the whole thing, and I won't sue them or anything. But I will consider leaving burning bags of doggie-poop on their doorsteps.

In other news, we are in the midst of a dog-sitting marathon. We've got Dianaverse's dog Daisy for 2 weeks, and Peace & Fuzzy's dog DOTi for a 4-day weekend. And, The Goofch has been sick with a case of pancreatitis for the past week or so. It's a puke-tastic fun-a-thon around old Camp Windy Woods, let me tell you. We're cooking chicken and rice for The Goofch, since it's all he can keep down. At least he has a good selection of buddies to play with and keep his mind off the bellyaches.

On Friday, some colleagues threw us a baby shower at work, and it was SO MUCH FUN. I just love showers and parties, and of course the pressies are lots of fun, too. We got some terrific baby furniture, travel stuff, clothes, blankets, and some handmade things that are so pretty, I'm not sure I can stand to ever let a baby spit-up onto them. This kid is going to be outfitted in style. Mostly I appreciated all the well-wishes and nice words from my friends at work. I've said it before, but it's true: I work with the most terrific people I could ever hope for.

Not much else going on, except that it's hot and muggy all the time, and it feels worse to me because of this big heating pad attached to my torso. Still walking or biking every day, but I've cut out the lunchtime activity. It's just too miserable. I've taken to walking with a frozen water bottle and holding it to my neck, head, arms, belly, back,...

When, oh when will autumn come?!

Tomorrow afternoon SNG, Peace, Fuzzy, the 2 dogs (Goofch and DOTi), hopefully 2 kayaks, lots of luggage and I will load into a rented minivan and drive ~24 hours over 3 days to a week's vacation in Marquette, MI. SNG's family owns a house on Lake Superior right on the water, overlooking Partridge Bay and Partridge Island. My parents are also driving up with their kayaks. The six of us will have a lovely time hiking, biking, kayaking, picking wild berries, watching the storms roll in across the Lake, seeing sunset at 11:30 pm, ...

Monday this week I went in for a late utrasound (27 weeks) and got some CUTE pictures of IHPE's little face:

Look at that nose! Either it's squished flat, or our girl will have a right-on schnoz! So cute.

Anyway, as you'll recall, between 20 and 24 weeks, I was super-hungry, especially for sweets, possibly due (in part) to taking a glucose tolerance test (which I passed). When they did my 24-week checkup, I had gained 8 pounds and when the doc whipped out the tape measure and measured my belly from the base to the top of the uterus, her eyes bugged out of her head like Large Marge. She insisted on another ultrasound to see whether the baby was a giant, or I had too much fluid, or something like that. I Was Scared. Scared straight!! No more sweets for me! I stopped eating all those brownies, cookies, muffins, candies, cakes, ... and over the next 3 weeks, did not gain an ounce. I am not dieting, I eat when I am hungry and stop when I am full, but I'm not eating junk food. In fact, 3 1/2 weeks later, I'm still the same weight I was when the doctor went all Marge on me.

That isn't to say that IHPE is the same size. I can tell that my waist has expanded even further, but my behind has shrunk back to its pre-20-week size.

So anyway, when I went in for the ultrasound, they found that she is 61st percentile for her age (2lb8oz) which isn't at all unusual, and the fluid is normal. She just had a really quick growth spurt. But my belly measures 32 weeks. I asked how this was possible. It's just the way I carry her, the doc said. Near as I can figure, it's like this:

You've got a basketball (that's the baby + fluid + uterus). You lay the basketball on a surface such as, say, a rubber membrane or a pile of pillows (that's the torso with internal organs). Measure how much basketball sticks up. This is kind of how the fundus measurement works. If the basketball is squishy, it can push itself flat. If the rubber membrane is soft, it can drop further in. Either way, you get a smaller measurement.

Now put that basketball on a very tight membrane, or a coffee table. It sticks up further. Same size basketball, but less space for it to settle in. This is me. As I've noted before, short girls don't have a lot of room for babies in there.

So, it looks like I gained 8 weeks' worth of weight in 4 weeks, and now I'm in a slow growth period. I'm expecting to resume weight gain (1/2-1 lb a week) soon. As long as I eat when I'm hungry and avoid junk food, and continue with my walking, I can only guess that everything will be just fine.

By the way, remember how I was bemoaning the jerks at airports who don't lift a finger to help The Pregnant Lady (and even the jerks who try to run us over in cars!)? Well, I think that phase is over. The last 2 trips I've been on, everyone has been really helpful. I guess I just wasn't big enough before. Now I probably scare people into thinking I'll topple over if they don't grab that suitcase off the security conveyor belt for me.

In other news, I learned this week that I'm rh-negative, and SNG is positive, which is a gentle way of saying that if we have a 2nd baby, my body might try to fight it off like a disease. Yikes. So, to prevent this from happening, they'll give me an injection of some cold, thick substance on Friday morning that will prevent the production of anti-baby antibodies. Then they'll do it again when baby is born. And again if I get pregnant again. At $133 a pop for the medicine alone, my insurance is trying to refuse to cover it. Grrrrrrrrr. Where's Nader when I need him?

I'll try to blog from Marquette. Happy 4th of July to everyone!

First things first: A HUGE CONGRATULATIONS!!!! to my cousin PartnerInCrime who recently learned that she and LeBon will be parents in February. She's due on Groundhog Day, which is toooooo cool. I'm pleased as punch to have a little bitty cousin almost the same age as IHPE on the way. Even though she's in Seattle, I'm sure these kids will grow up together anyway! We also have another bitty-witty girl cousin due VERY soon in Asheville. All this baby excitement! There's definitely something in the water.

Wednesday I left for New York and was reminded of the reality of summertime air travel. Our flight left late because of air traffic at La Guardia, then we weren't allowed to land when we got there because of air traffic. On Friday, we flew home late because of air traffic, because the incoming plane wasn't allowed to land due to air traffic. Then we sat on the departing runway for another 45 minutes due to air traffic. I always wonder how it is possible that the airport doesn't know we're coming, or leaving, literally months ahead of time. And if they do, in fact, know that we're coming, why not plan accordingly? Imagine a similar situation with family:

Mom: Hi honey, we're going to visit you in Raleigh next month!
Me: Oh, that's awesome, mom! We can't wait to see you!
Mom: We'll be in on July 28.
Me: Super. See you then.

a month later...
Mom: Hi, sweetie, we're all packed up and about to hit the road to come visit!
Me: Oh, you better wait a few days. We planned for 6 other guests to come stay at the house.
Mom: Oh, gollygeewillakers. Well, OK, we'll leave in a few days.

a few days later...
Mom: Hi, sweetie, we're about 2 hours from Raleigh, and wanted to make sure you'd be home to let us in!
Me: Oh, no, sorry mom. Those people I invited? Well, they've left but I've got 8 more people showing up in about 30 minutes. You'd better find a motel in Greensboro for a week or so.
Mom: Well, OK, but your dad has a bike club meeting in 10 days.
Me: Oh, no problem!!! There will DEFINITELY be room for you in 2 more days.

2 days later...
Mom: We're just outside Raleigh!
Me: Oh, sorry mom, we're really busy with MORE guests that we planned for, and I've already made THEM wait 9 days so you'll need to wait a little longer...

I don't know about your mom, but mine would just come to the house anyway and sleep on the living room floor if I tried to pull something like that. But the airports? Well, we can't be rude. We must wait until air taffic control invites us.

None of this would really be a big deal, as I'm used to airport delays and sitting on runways for hours at a time. It's all part of the road warrior territory. What bothers me is doing all of this while big and pregnant. There's almost no more uncomfortable place to be than seated in an airplane seat while big and pregnant. I'd rather do yoga Sun Salutations for 3 hours than spend 45 minutes sitting in an airplane seat while big and pregnant.

That reminds me- I have a few pregnant lady pictures, and I've posted them here. The contrast of having a giant belly and normal everything else is funny. The big belly makes my butt look tiny, which is kind of cool (sorry, no pics of my butt). On the other hand, I once saw a naked man a the beach who was built about like I am now- boobs, giant belly, little butt and legs. It was one of the scariest things I've seen in my whole life. He was also very hairy. And, did I mention?, naked.

OK, back to the NY trip. I had a good time in spite of the travel discomfort. Fuzzy asked me to try out a restaurant for him called The Modern, which was quite good. Best of all, I had company! One of my students, who was from Albany and also had nothing to do, went walking with me after class and to dinner on Thursday evening. It's always nicer to have someone to eat with on trips.

This week I'm home (yay!) and it's the last week in the office before we go on the Marquette trip. Driving for 3 days there and 2 days back is something I am dreading more than sitting on the runway at La Guardia. But, our traveling companions are terrific, and we're renting a minivan with a bench seat I can lie down on some of the time. Stopping every 45 minutes should be memorable. And once we get there, we'll have a fabulous time. No doubt you'll hear some bellyaching about it afterwards.

Honestly, I don't really like to visit you. If you want to see me, you'll have to invite me.

Or, an open letter to my dentist.

I realized in January that I had not been to the dentist in awhile. I usually make it in somewhere around summer and somewhere around winter, and I couldn't recall whether I had been in the previous 3 months. I didn't think so. However, at the time I had other concerns, what with a sudden drop in appetite, homicidal tendencies, an impending 3-week vacation to Europe, nausea, narcolepsy, and various and sundry other little distractions.

"Any day now I'll get a reminder card in the mail for my next cleaning appointment."

Fast-forward to April. I was reading a copy of Pregnancy Sucks, and in the current month I was advised to see my dentist. Apparently, bleeding gums and gum disease are a particularly common concern around 2nd trimester. I have had no such symptoms, perhaps owing to the fact that I love to floss at every opportunity. Some people have woobies. I have Glide floss.

"I wonder whether they've forgotten about me, and I don't actually have an appointment scheduled."

Many business trips, lots of work meetings, lots of doctor's appointments later, I look at the calendar and realize that it is no longer winter. It is most decidedly summer. Still no visit to the dentist. I've seen more of my hairdresser than of my dentist this year. Although my gums are still healthy and normal-looking, I'm reading more and more about how the sky will fall if I go to full term without having seen a dentist.

This morning I called. They looked me up, and sure enough, no appointment scheduled. The receptionist told me, "Oh, yes, it has been awhile since we've seen you. You should come in every 6 months." Yeah. Thanks for that.

I have never, since the first appointment when I started seeing this dentist, explicitly made an appointment. I have told him of my fear of dental work, and that, if left to my own devices, I might never show up. I thought we had an understanding that, if they wanted me back in 6 months, they would have to schedule the appointment whether I asked them to or not. This system has worked for the past 6 years. Why has it failed now, when it seems more important than ever that I Get Me to a Dentistry?

So I have an appointment for July 19. One month from today. I hope I still have teeth by then.

In other news, the gym I used to teach aerobics for (I'm still on the sub list, but no longer teaching a weekly class) is finally going belly-up. I have long suspected that the whole company was a front for money-laundering, made even more suspicious by the fact that the suspected-drug-dealing-wheeler-and-dealer we bought our lovely house from was one of their investors. Starting about 6 months ago, the emails started to fly about how instructors weren't being paid, or the checks were bouncing. Since then, four of the 10 locations have mysteriously closed and all the equipment "disappeared" in the night. Imagine members' dismay when, arriving at 6am to take their favorite class, the doors are chained shut with little or no explanation and certainly no refunds.

Today I got this email from the interrim fitness coordinator:

Hey Gang,

My name is xxxx and yes, there still are instructors teaching at xxxgym-name-herexxx. Well, not at Waverly, Durham, or Spring Forest or Greensboro.

But .... the other clubs do need some help. All of our checks to this point have eventually cashed but it sometimes takes a few trips to the bank. To (xxxthe bank that the gym usesxxx).... get cash and then go to our own banks. That problem still exists.

I am assuming that July 1 is do or die day from what we have been told. But again, you all know who we are dealing with so I can't be sure of that info either.

Even with all that going on I am still trying to have a group fitness program. So .... not for xxxgym-name-herexxx but for the members and your fellow instructors that are teaching there I am asking for your help.

Is anyone interested in helping out once in awhile. I understand if you will not pick back up a regular class but would you be willing to cover a class when one of us is on vacation. As you can imagine there is no sub list. If someone can't teach a class the class is cancelled. I am trying to keep the website up to date but .......

Anyone interested in helping out your fellow instructors and the members whom we all love respond to this e-mail.

Can you say, "death throes?" I knew that you could!

You Are Austin

A little bit country, a little bit rock and roll. You're totally weird and very proud of it. Artistic and freaky, you still seem to fit in... in your own strange way. Famous Austin residents: Lance Armstrong, Sandra Bullock, Andy Roddick

What American City Are You?

No kidding, that's what came up! Too funny.

And, I'm completely addicted to internet quizzes.

You Are Miss Piggy

A total princess and diva, you're totally in charge - even if people don't know it. You want to be loved, adored, and worshiped. And you won't settle for anything less. You're going to be a total star, and you won't let any of the "little people" get in your way. Just remember, piggy, never eat more than you can lift!

The Muppet Personality Test

It's a little embarassing to admit that we've lived in our current house for either 2 or 3 years (can't remember whether we moved in April of '03 or '04) and the only people we had ever met were:

-the couple next door who have 5 cars
-the single guy next door, other side
-the couple across the street
-1/2 of the couple behind our house to the left and their twins girls
-my 2 other coworkers who live in our neighborhood and their families, who don't really count because I already knew them
-the nice lady from a block down with the boy scouts who sell popcorn
-every neighborhood dog

Of these, we really only talk to the car-crazy guys next door and the 1/2 couple behind and to our left. Of them, the only ones who have actually ever been over for dinner, or even a beer in the driveway, are the guys next door.

It's shameful. There are reasons, though.

For one thing, I travel a lot, so I don't have a lot of opportunity to see people. SNG is fairly reserved, too, so he's unlikely to strike up conversation with neighbors wandering past our house on a walk. Which they don't do anyway, since we live in a cul-de-sac. To make matters worse, although I am not generally a shy person, I've never been very comfortable with introducing myself to my neighbors anywhere I've lived. It's a bit painful trying to talk to a new neighbor without making an idiot of myself. I have a tendency to say things that I later realize may have come off as goofy.

We did try to meet people the first summer we lived here. There was a neighborhood 4th of July get-together in one of the cul de sacs and we went. We made small talk with the 2 people we knew, stared at our shoes, stared up in the trees at the birds, and went home. There have been no block parties since (that we know of).

So 2 weeks ago, much to my delight, I found a flyer in my mailbox saying that the ladies of the neighborhood would be meeting out in one of the cul-de-sacs to drink wine every Monday night throughout June, and maybe beyond. Last week was the first installment of Wine Time. I grabbed a fresh Pellegrino from the fridge, threw a folding chair over my shoulder and went.

It was kind of awkward, since everyone knew everyone else, and I was the newbie, but there's no reason I should be a newbie as our "new neighbor" status has long since expired. Really I should have met people sooner. So I went to Wine Time and fortunately, one person had brought a huge pile of craft-project-stuff she wanted help with, so I mindlessly cut out laminated bits of paper and listened to/laughed at other people's stories while keeping my hands busy.

Last night was the 2nd installment. There were some different people there, some of whom were people I've wanted to meet for a long time but never had the chance. Like the other 1/2 of our neighbors behind and to the left. Why was I too shy to introduce myself sooner? I liked her a lot and we also like her husband and their cute twin girls.

Anyway, it's been really fun to finally meet more people and feel less like an outsider in my own front yard. We've got a long way until we are on chatting terms with nearly everyone, and I won't remember people's names for at least another month (with my terrible memory for first names) but it's a start.

Are we the only people who seem to have this difficulty meeting neighbors?

Apologies for another one of these prenatal posts, but it's kind of the dominating feature right now. If you're sick of them, check back in a few months.

SNG and I went to the doctor yesterday for the 24-week checkup, and while I am in perfect health and the IHPE seems to be in perfect health, IHPE also seems to have grown a lot more than they expected her to over the past 4 weeks. WHY?

Here's what Dr. MD-and-so-I-don't-have-to-listen-to-your-opinions thinks:
* perhaps she is going through a growth spurt
* perhaps there is a lot more fluid in there (hence the distinctive "I just stole a soccer ball and hid it under my shirt" look)
* perhaps I am carrying it "differently" (What does THAT mean? Under my arm? By its ankles? I mean, honestly, how many ways are there to carry a baby before it is born?)
* maybe I'm eating too much and all the fat has gone straight to my midsection (since my bo-hindie is roughly the same size it was 4 weeks ago)

Here's what I think:
* my anterior expansion coincides with 2 events: 1) a glucose tolerance test, which often causes as much problem as it detects in people and 2) a subsequent MONSTER increase in appetite, particularly for sweet things. My weight has bounded steadily upwards since. That sort of coincides with hypothesis #4 above, only DR. MASIDHTLTYO probably doesn't believe that a diagnostic test can actually cause a change in a patient.
* I still suspect that the doctors have my due date wrong by about a week to 10 days. If so, then I'm actually at 25-26 weeks, not 24. Why do I think this? Well, Dr. Just-out-of-school-and-can't-operate-the-old-timey-equipment-and-have-to-get-someone-else-to-help just didn't instill a feeling of great confidence when she took the fetal measurement at my 8-week appointment, and that's what they've based the due date on.

Time will tell.

Anyway, the upshot is that they ordered another ultrasound in "a week or, at most, 2 weeks from now." Yeah, great, but they don't even have any appointments available until THREE weeks from now. This is when I have to come back for my next regular visit anyway, but they can't do both appointments on the same day, or even at the same office. So 2 days in a row, I'll miss a few hours of work for doctor visits. On the plus-side, I get more SUPER-4-D PICTURES! Yay! And the Dr said that between 24 and 28 weeks is when it's best to see pictures because you get the best images possible. On the minus side, they're going to do another glucose tolerance test. Rats.

I'm psyched about the extra ultrasound. I also hope that the IHPE's growth trajectory decelerates by that time, because at this rate I'm seriously going to split open like a September watermelon in a rainy summer.

IN NON-NATAL NEWS:
Today I'm flying to Rockville (suburb of DC) to teach the rest of the week. Fun.

Last weekend we didn't clean out the garage to put stuff into the shed. But we did buy some wood strip for our kayak refinishing project.

Our friend Kiltman was in town and stayed with us last weekend, which was really great because for some reason, he and I never manage to keep in touch over email, only in person. But whenever we do get back in touch, things just pick up wherever they left off.

Sunday I took a solo mountain bike ride and went a little faster than I had been going for the previous weeks. I will not tell you what my average speeds were because it's shameful, but I will say that for a 1 hour ride, I was able to average a speed of about 1.5 mph faster than the last 3 times I rode the same route. Vroom! Go Cat. Meanwhile, SNG went on a group ride with the bike shop for the first time in many months and hammered through 30 miles at a (much faster) very respectable clip.

Saturday we bought a truckload of mulch and mulched the backyard. Mulch is steamy and smelly. The weather was beautiful, so it was tolerable. If it had also been hot and sticky and mosquito-ey, I'd have claimed prenatal fatigue and stayed on the sofa watching Spongebob reruns.

I had my first Kibbi sandwich from the middle eastern cafe around the corner. OMG I will definitely be eating more of those. Maybe that explains the belly expansion?

A few news pieces...
SNG has a blog! He probably won't update it more than once or twice a year, but right now he has a picture of the shed he built over the weekend. "Good jorb, Hamstrae!" -- Coach Z

SNG built a shed over the weekend. Actually, he and his dad built the shed together. Friday, SNG and I leveled the area where it would go. Saturday and Sunday, SNG and his did the barn-raising. Monday, I painted it while SNG put on the shingles. He's quite a roofer now! We still have to wait for some rain to know whether he's quite a good roofer.

While SNG and his dad built the shed, it pained me to refrain from helping. Y'all know I am quite the handy-girl. I was wielding hammer-and-nails while still in diapers, I had built several pieces of furniture by the time I left for college, and I even learned to arc weld in college (I learned tig and mig welding techniques, go me. And I wasn't half bad at it.). Set me loose with a roomful of power tools and I can build stuff. But the doctor says that I need to avoid heavy lifting and overheating, so it didn't seem like the best time to be building a shed.

So SNG's mom and I worked on some sewing projects inside. I've learned this about sewing my own clothes:
1. It takes far too long for what I get out of it.
2. I'm not good enough at it to modify patterns for the fact that my bust, middle, and hips are 3 different sizes.
3. When I'm finished, I have something that "looks home-made." And not in a good way.
4. Hunching over my little sewing machine is quite painful to my back.
But I did have a great time chatting with SNG's mom all weekend.

In short, I am still not, nor am I likely ever to be, a Domestic Goddess.

Just a regular old Goddess.

At last, the confinement is over. And, since I had to teach on Sunday (at 8am, mind you!), I will be taking the day off tomorrow. Four-day weekend! Woowoo!

This weekend SNG's 'rents are coming to town to help with the old-fashioned Amish barn-raising going on in our very own yard. Actually, it's an 8x8 foot shed, and the men-types will do the barn-raising. SNG's mom and I will be ripping our hairs out trying to sew maternity clothes all weekend long. Well, actually, she'll probably be just fine as she actually knows how to sew beyond just a pretty-much-straight-line. She's already made a shirt, some pants, a skirt, some shorts in less than 2 weeks. I've had 3 identical shirts in the planned-but-not-made-phase for the past 4 weeks. I am determined to get those shirts one step closer to wearable.

So Domestic! Where's that horse-and-buggy?

In the meantime, I am spending one of the 2.5 remaining business days I have left to learn this goshforsaken new class that I'm supposed to be teaching very very soon. Trouble is that when I run the examples in the course on my computer, I don't get the same results as the ones shown in the book. This is the same software that has taken 1.5 business days to install each time I've had to install it. Which has been three.

But at least it's kind of like Friday today! 75 minutes to go!

Help! I am a hostage in a Crazyland first-class beach resort.

This week I'm at one of the larger of the lesser/regional user group conferences for the software I teach. It's being held at the Hyatt Regency Coconut Point resort, a top-notch joint in the heart of the coastal FL everglades just outside Ft Myers. On the site are four mediocre restaurants (typical meal price for salad and an entree only plus tax & tip: $35); four pools, one with a water-park-styley super water slide and one with a waterfall; a ferryboat ride to a private beach; various gift and tchotchky shops; nature walks; and a full-service spa with such offerings as:
Watsu aqua massage
Sundari facial
Neem and Gotu Kola healing wrap
Warm stone massage
Sundari herbal soak
Thai massage
Sundari spa pedicure
and that's just a sampling, not to mention the usual hair and manicure services.

Somehow I'm not feeling your sympathy. But you have no idea how desperately I need to be rescued from this place. We were told by the conference liason and by the travel dept that we were not allowed to rent a car for the conference because everything we'd need would be available on-site. Independently, the expense department laid down a meal rate of $45 a day.

As the resort is in the middle of an everglades natural wetland, we are not in sight-distance of anywhere cheap to eat. Since I was teaching an early Sunday morning class, I brought some breakfast cereal from home. So breakfast was free Sunday and Monday. Lunch was $34, and not very good. After I finished teaching Sunday, I wanted to find a way to pass the time, as none of my colleagues had arrived, and I was bored to pieces. Nature walk! Perfect!

There is a 1/4 mile boardwalk through the wetlands to the ferry boats where I could catch a ride to the beach. Taking my time and reading about all the marshland plants and animals, looking at a white ibis hunting for sand crabs, and dodging lots of lizards, I reached the ferry boat in about 6 minutes.

The last boat had left at 3pm. It was 4:15.

Undeterred, I tried finding other routes through nature. While the typical retired Floridian vacationer may consider a 0.25 mile boardwalk (1/2 mile round-trip!) to be quite a workout, I do not. There were no other routes on the resort grounds.

Lucky for me, I have my brand new whale-in-a-minidress maternity swimsuit with me. Actually, I love the thing. It's so BIG! But it's so COMFY! And modest. It covers up all the stuff I want covered. It would look ridiculous on anyone who is NOT pregnant, but there's no hiding that bump, so I can pull it off right now.

So I headed for the pools. First pool-- too cold. It's a "refreshing chilled waterfall pool." Ehhhh, no. The next pool was the super-slide. Oh how I wanted to go on the super-slide! But it isn't the same if you're totally by yourself and wearing a big black muumuu and riding the waterslide among all the 8-12 year olds. I would probably be perceived as some kind of Floridian pree-vert.

The 3rd pool was the lap pool, but no one was swimming laps and it was the right temperature so I floated around in it awhile and then found a shady cot and slept in the breeze for a couple of hours. Dinner put me about $30 over the meal limit for just a salad and a sandwich. Grrrr. I borrowed a DVD from the resort's loaner library and watched it all by myself in my room (no, not one of THOSE movies. It was Spanglish, an Adam Sandler flick. Cute.).

The next day (Monday), I worked the demo room for the conference, answering questions about training and certification and chatting up the few people I knew from work, other conferences, or my Sunday morning seminar. One woman in particular who lives in Austin was a lot of fun and she ended up hanging out with a group of us that evening. So, having found a few friends, things were looking up. The conference provided lunch: a salad and a big hunk of carrot cake. Just what I need to stave off gestational diabetes. And typical of my diet since I've been here. After lunch I needed to get away. AWAY! Escape! I wanted to walk until I found civilization. I tied on some running shoes and struck out in search of a land free of mangroves, hawaiian shirts, and fufu frozen drinks.

I walked for 2 miles until I reached a muddy field with no sidewalk which separated me from a large highway and, on the other side, a strip mall. I had come so far, only to be turned away. There was no way I was going to brave crossing that highway. To add up the obstacles:
1. muddy field (would ruin my shoes and possibly expose me to a giant anaconda)
2. big highway-- I don't run as fast as the cars.
3. I'm in Florida, home to 5 of the 10 least pedestrian-safe cities in America. Seriously, I am not kidding. These people cannot--should not--drive.
4. I'm in Florida where they drive on the medians to avoid a slowdown at a red light. It isn't called Crazyland for nothin', people.
5. After the Cincinnati trip, I am certain that a segment of the population is intent on running over pregnant ladies.

That night, dinner cost over $50. I had a salad, an entree, some asparagus, and a teeny ball of lemon sorbet. Throughout the day (baby's got to snack), I'd purchased a coffee drink ($3.45), a muffin ($2.80), some popcorn ($6) and a small Lunchables ($6). Total food for the day, without having to pay for breakfast or lunch: about $70.

I was, and still am trapped, a 2-mile walk from the nearest non-resort civilization which may as well be a million miles, with a budget of $45 a day and nothing to do for free recreation except beach myself like a large maternity whale by the pool.

Please send a car.