Friday Night at Dinner

Friday night on the way to dinner, a gallon of regular-unleaded gas was $2.94.

We go out to dinner every Friday night. We’ve done so for nearly 10 years. The only thing that prevents us from going to dinner on Friday nights is if one of us is sick or out of town.

I think that after the baby’s born, we’ll still be able to go to dinner. Zel thinks we’ll need to start doing take out on Friday nights.

So, we went to Chinese Friday night. While we were there, there was this couple, and she had just been released from the hospital. I could tell because she had a hospital bracelet on.

She also received three phone calls on her cell.

The first call came in while she and her gentleman friend (not sure if it was her brother or her lover or her husband or what, but there was a dude with her) were deciding what to eat. The waitress came over to take their order, and looked at him and said, “Are you ready?” And he looked at the lady with the hospital bracelet, and she shook her head. He looked at the waitress, and said, “Nope. Better come back.” The waitress said, “No problem,” and walked away.

The second call came before their food came. And the third call came while they were eating. Each time, she was on the call for several minutes, completely ignoring the other person she was with. She also told everyone that she just got out of the hospital.

What I don’t understand is:

• why she still had her hospital bracelet on
• why she received so many phone calls and told each person she was on the phone with that she was just released from the hospital
• why she had to completely ignore the other person she was with while she was on the phone; she didn't ignore him otherwise
  

The only conclusion I can come up with is that she’s starved for attention.

I don’t feel like blessing her attention-starved heart. I’m too crabby right now to bless anyone’s heart.

Friday night on the way home from dinner, a gallon of regular-unleaded gas was $3.09.

Terms for Being Pregnant

Since it’s become public information that I’m pregnant, I’ve had several people refer to me by various pregnant-related names. Some of these names refer to my state of being, while others are perceived in our culture as cute.

Part of it depends on who’s saying the name. For example, a colleague/friend of mine, who is a senior citizen, and I recently attended a meeting. The room was very crowded, and I had a chair, which I was more than happy to give up for my friend. She thanked me, but declined, saying she had trouble taking a chair from a “Preggie.” Preggie is ok, because it came from her. Really, she’s quite lovely, and I’ve known her for several years, so I was not taken aback. I saw it as a term of endearment.

However, we were at the grocery store a few weeks ago, and the stock boy, who for some reason, just kinda gives me a weird vibe, called me “Prego.” Not ok. Prego is a spaghetti sauce. Baby and I are not a spaghetti sauce, thank you very much.

But, if my Dad calls me Prego, it’s ok, but only because he’s my Dad. But, we're still not a spaghetti sauce, Grandpa.

When I was at the National Conference last week, I was able to spend some time with the Biostatistician in the evenings. He said I’m “Up the Duff.” Apparently that’s a British saying. I think it sounds like someone got F’ed in the A.

I’m also not fond of “With Child” and “In a Family Way.” These are a bit to ultra-conservative-Christian-Right for me.

I’m not sure if the Liberals have a term for being pregnant, but I’d probably take that over the above mentioned two.

“Bun in the Oven” is ok, because Baby is cooking…in a sense.

“P-G” reminds me of a time when it was taboo to discuss anything related to sex. The whispers of what happened to girls who suddenly disappeared and went to their “Aunt’s house” or to work in the laundries.

If the current administration stays in control any longer, we may be headed there again. Or, we may be headed to the Republic of Gilead. I’m not sure about you, but I’m not down with being called Ofrandy or anything similar.

“Expecting a Child” or “Expecting a Baby” is ok by me.

Of course, you can always ask the pregnant woman if she has a preference of how one should refer to her pregnancy. Or, you could just say, "she's pregnant." That's a pretty safe one.

Pregnancy Brain

I’ve officially come under the curse of Pregnancy Brain.

My female friends warned me about this. They said I’d get to the point where I can’t remember things.

I was just hoping I’d be in my 80’s when it hit. And then, I’d take a bid dose of Dr. Kevorkian and be done with it. (We do it to our pets, I don’t see why we can’t do it to ourselves; but that’s a blog for a different time.)

So, anyway, I’m giving my presentation at a National Conference last week. I’ve been working on this little project for four years. I gave this same presentation in October at a State Conference. It’s not like I don’t know my shit, yo.

Lost my thought. Mid-sentence, just lost my thought.

So, I said to my audience after I had a longer than normal pause in the middle of a sentence, “I’m sorry. I’m pregnant and my thought completely left my brain.” I even did a little hand gesture, where I touched my head and then pointed at an angle off to the right with my right hand. My very kind audience of about 50 people laughed. Several of them, both women and men, nodded.

Then, on my way home from the National Conference, I stopped at Babies “R” Us. Babies “R” Us is for the Expecting Woman and The Already Parents like what Disneyland is for 9 year olds. Or what a really good porn store is to Zel.

I was looking for a crib, changing table, and a chest/dresser. The furniture babe was fabulous. She answered all of my vast variety of questions with patience and a smile. I’m sure I asked her the same question more than once; perhaps even 12 times. Smile all the while. She understands. She deals with the Pregnant Brain for 40 hours/week while she’s at work. God bless her.

Elves

Zel thinks we have Elves that clean the house.

Granted, I don’t discourage this belief.

For example, the other night, we were getting ready to go to bed. I turned down the covers, Zel gets in and said, “Did you change the sheets?”

I said, “No. The Elves must’ve come out of their hiding place today.” Just for effect, I acted surprised.

Zel said, “Well, the Elves did a great job. I’ll have to thank them the next time I see them.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m sure the Head Elf would love to have her pussy licked.”

No response.

I mean, who else would change the sheets?

It’s not like Flof can change the sheets. I’m sure he would if he could. But he gives me this song and dance about, “I don’t have opposable thumbs”.

Flof also thinks it’s his job to dirty the house. He’s quite good at that right now: it’s springtime and he’s a shedder. I brush him frequently, but it’s kind of like trying to herd cats.

I get the same question from Zel about vacuuming and cleaning the bathrooms. I get the same “no opposable thumbs” excuse from Flof about doing housework.

Well, gotta go vacuum.

An Elf’s work is never done.

The Legend of Fist Shakin’ Fine

They were at one of the bars within stumbling distance to their apartment. Friends of ours who went to graduate school with Zel, before he was my husband.

Luis was there. And the Biostatistician. And their other roommate may have been there, but he may have been in California, visiting his girlfriend.

It was probably a weekend night, because they only really partied like rock stars on the weekend. But, knowing the guys, it could’ve been a weeknight.

As usual, they were checking out the women. What else is there to do in a small college town?

They were trying to one-up each other in what they were saying about the women. For example, at some point, it may or may not have been during this same night, they were talking about Jeri Ryan. At the time, she was playing Seven of Nine on “Star Trek: Voyager”. The Biostatistician said her breasts were Perfect Circles. And, they are. (No word from the band A Perfect Circle if they created their name from this, but anything’s possible.) And, it’s stuck. On the occasion we see a young hot thing with Jeri Ryanesque breasts, “Perfect Circles” comes from someone’s mouth.

Apparently the saying “Fist Shakin’ Fine” came because some babe walked into the bar, and somebody, either Luis or the Biostatistician said, “She’s so fine, she’s fist shakin’ fine!!” Complete with them shaking their fists above their heads (similar to the Fist Shakin’ Fine Bear).

The guys were shaking their fists so hard, they had difficulty staying on their bar stools. At this point, the bartender cut them off and sent them home.

No word if either of them ever saw the Fist Shakin’ Fine Babe again. But, knowing the guys, one of them got her phone number and ended up nailing her.

High School Girls Win Three-Way

Apparently, my local paper thought this was a great headline for the front page of the sports section.

The girls track team beat two other schools. Good for them!

The accompanying picture is that of one of the girls pole vaulting over an 8-foot, 6-high bar. She has both hands firmly grasped on the launching pole, extreme look of concentration on her face.

The image also shows the high bar looking like it’s coming out of her ass. Classy picture to go along with the classy headline.