Comparing Baby Bumps

Zimm and I went out for dinner (with our husbands) on Friday night. We hadn't seen each other since early June, so it was fun to gawk at each other's pregnant bellies. Zimm is due October 15--only 2 1/2 weeks before me! Awww...aren't we cute?
We'll have to pose for this picture again in a few weeks.

And this is me back at around 20 weeks (I'm about 29 weeks in the pictures above)--I couldn't imagine getting any bigger than that and now I can barely see the bump at all!

Liar

I had the best of intentions--Really! I was going to post about my birthday and the lovely four day weekend and random baby related things, and then...and then I got sidetracked.

D surprised me on my b-day and brought me breakfast in bed. Aw. After watching something on DVR, we went to work out. We also saw Harrison's new blockbuster and I simply cannot wait until July 18 to see the other big movie of the summer. (And I know there are other big movies, but that is the one I am waiting for.) Because our new favorite movie theater is at a mall, we did some shopping to let the nachos digest before heading to Big Bowl for dinner. Yum. Once home, we collapsed in bed because apparently that is a really big day for us.

And my four days off: Fantastic. I spent most of the time being a lazy bum, but also got out of the house to shop for maternity clothes. I can't find anything I like. Plus, most of them are still too big for me even though my clothes are too small. I need a happy medium. So I've resorted to wearing empire waist dresses and T-shirts that are too tight. I simply adore my Bella Band, though.

Oh, and I found out that Zimm is having a girl! She is due October 15. And my friend Lisha is due December 2. And -R-, of course, is due about the same time that I am! I know so many pregnant ladies!

I think that wraps up this update.

Oh, I’m Supposed to Blog Here

That is enough of a break for you; I’m back and I’m posting. Let the nonsense begin!

Some of you noticed that I was not around; it makes me feel good to be missed. Some days I feel like the Internet redirects my rambling to a black hole somewhere. Oh yes, Pity Party for one, please—at a table near a fireplace lest I freeze to death in January rendering me unable to continue whining. (I did the whole Cut & Paste dance with this paragraph too many times to count until I figured that I should leave it in as it accurately represents my current mood: full of self pity with a huge helping of disgust from said self pity.)

So, where have I been? Work has been uncharacteristically busy for January. (Shhhh…I mostly blog at work.) Also, I’ve been practicing (bowling) a lot and working out a lot and all of this effort is bound to pay off at some point, right? Like maybe with a strike or five and a visible waistline? But mostly I’ve been avoiding my blog because I’ve been less than chipper recently and I didn’t want a post like this to happen. But, I’m here. People emailed. And Books said it was OK if I got fired for blogging at work as long as she was entertained.

Luckily, I ignored my blog when a decent post was left on the main screen. Had it been one of my less than stellar posts, perhaps I wouldn’t have stayed away for quite as long, though. And I completely thought about updating you all on how antioxidants almost killed me: I challenged pomegranate seeds to a cage match and those little tarty-sweet seeds kicked my arse but were disqualified for causing an allergic reaction, making my digestive system revolt. The lesson in all of this: enjoy new foods, but eat them with caution!

I really didn’t intend to take 10 days off, but this week has just gone by so quickly. (see Busy At Work above) I have a couple of articles to use as writing prompts (no worries, they are not time sensitive at all, in fact I’m certain they are both old) and some pictures I intend to post as soon as I find my camera. And I am not as crabby in person as I am in black and white. I’m fine—really. In fact, my cute pearl earrings arrived today from Blue Nile and they look great with the pearl pendant necklace from D and the combo perfectly compliments my light blue cashmere turtleneck today. That and a new coffee mug are certainly enough to make this girl smile!

A Page Full of Hearts

Growing up I had a lot of male friends. I always had a female best friend, but seemed to connect better with the boys. Perhaps this was because I had 10 male cousins growing up and I tried to fit in, or maybe it was that I bowled, golfed and took karate lessons (mostly boys), or it could just be that I got along better with the boys from an early age and that’s it.

I did many of the typical girly things like passing notes in class, talking on the phone and hanging out at the mall, but I tended to share my secrets with the boys. Luckily this never backfired on me (until I was 19 or 20 anyway) but it did make some situations a little sticky. For instance, in 7th grade I had a crush on my best male friend, Phill. I met him in 5th grade through our church youth group; and even at a young age we clicked almost immediately. In 7th grade we began talking on the phone quite often and hanging out on Sundays after church. We were often teased by classmates, but it didn’t matter—we were just friends.

In the middle of the year I developed a super duty crush on Phill. Every time a youth group gathering came up I would imagine that it would be the night he would ask me to go out (you know, like dating—we probably wouldn’t go anywhere). I wanted to tell him about my crush, but I couldn’t for fear that he would laugh at me. Finally, it was a page full hearts that did me in. During a particularly boring sermon--when we were all supposed to be taking notes--I was drawing hearts all over my notebook paper and filling them with “K + P”. I had not told anyone of my crush at this point in time, yet I was scribbling it everywhere for the world to see. All of a sudden, my best female friend, Belle, grabbed my paper and announced that I had a crush on Peter—another boy in our Sunday School class. Teasing ensued. Quick thinker that I was, I said emphatically, “P is for Pedro.” Yeah, because I knew someone named Pedro. Riiight.

Peter was awkward to be around the rest of the day, but by the following Sunday it all seemed to be smoothed over. As for Phill, we ditched sermon the next Sunday so he could tell me a big secret. He had a crush on Belle. All of my drawn hearts broke simultaneously. I ached in silence as I encouraged him to call her. They ‘went out’ for 3 months, an eternity by junior high standards. Phill and I remained friends during their ‘relationship’ and beyond. As did he and Belle. But he longed after Belle well into high school.

By 10th grade Phill had dated 3 more of my friends but also found the time to escort me to a Homecoming dance, and be a blind date for one of my friends for that year’s Sno Daze. He was a great friend, but my crush had not died—nor had I ever confessed it to anyone. It wasn’t until yet another one of my friends had a crush on him and followed through, only to be rejected, that I shared my story with her. For months we crushed in private, and then they dated. She told him EVERYTHING. Because Phill was a cool guy, we talked about it and continued to be friends; albeit friends with a huge elephant in the room with broken hearts drawn all over it.

To make light of the situation, I made my crush public knowledge. I put myself out there to be laughed at, probably so that I didn’t feel so alone or marked. In what seemed like no time at all, it just became part of our shared history and our friendship continued to strengthen. I had dated during my crush on Phill, but I dated more after the initial rejection wore off. I began to think of him as almost a brother; he had moved from the Prospect pile to the Friend pile.

After high school we drifted, only talking on the phone occasionally and seeing each other once or twice a year. After my sophomore year in college I received a hand written letter from Phill. He poured out his heart, writing about how his feelings for me had changed—grown. It was a sweet letter. I still remember reading it on the floor of my kitchen, sitting cross-legged leaning on a lower cupboard. It was everything I had wanted to hear—seven years ago—and I couldn't get over how sincere and vulnerable he was being, but I really couldn't get over that at that moment I knew he was certainly, unmistakably, a Friend. I called. We met for coffee. We chatted and hugged good bye. Months later he met the woman that is now his wife.

I don’t know how our paths would have changed had I said “Phill” instead of “Pedro” but I know that we had a great friendship and that I would still welcome him with open arms back into my life (as a Friend) if we were to ever cross paths again.

Good Shots

Yes, I spend pretty much every weekend in the bowling alley regardless if I'm bowling or not. And yes, I still say 'bowling alley' most of the time even though I know I am supposed to say 'bowling center.' I'm working on it.

Today both my dad and my brother were bowling in a big tournament and I enjoyed watching, pseudo-coaching and cheering them on. I basically grew up in a bowling center, so I know most of the guys there, and it was fun to chat with everyone and see my friends do well. My dad and my brother both bowled well enough to make the cut, so they get to bowl tomorrow. I was reminded of the start time and that I even get an extra hour of sleep tonight (Remember, it's Day Light Savings--set your clocks back!) so that there is no excuse for me not to show up on time.

Lest you think I'm a social loser, I do have plans tonight with friends and we will not be bowling. I do expect that food and laughter will be involved though, and maybe even some shopping. Perhaps I'll find a few of the accessories I so desperately need.

80085

This morning, like every Wednesday morning, I was driving in to work listening to K102 and trying not to spill chai on myself. Yes, Wednesday mornings are my favorite mornings during the work week. I get to drive myself in to work as opposed to carpooling with D (which I actually do love, by the way, but a woman needs her space and her own music!) and that means I get to stop at Dunn Bros before work (or else I'm actually going to Sbux, which is fine, but it's no Dunn's) and also, I get to leave work early. I know the last thing has nothing to do with Wednesday mornings, but just knowing I get to leave early makes my morning better.

So, back on topic...This morning on K102 they were starting some new Ask The Experts thing, and today they had 2 women from Macy's on air who were certified bra fitters. (Log that under a job I do not want.) Right now Macy's is doing the Wacoal Fit For The Cure as it is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month--so go get fitted! Eight in ten women are still wearing the wrong size bra, even after the Oprah special a year or two ago. All of these women were calling in with fit questions and Muss and Fish were trying very hard to stay professional. It was an OK show, but it still amazes me that more women don't get fitted properly. Bras are expensive. If I'm going to spend that kind of money I would want to make sure I was buying the right size. And that is exactly what I did.

I didn't know about the whole Macy's Fit For The Cure thing, or else I maybe would have waited a week and gone there. But I went to Nordstrom last week to get fitted, and I don't think it would ever dawn on me to get fitted for bras at Macy's. Nordstrom is known for that, not Macy's. Just like Marshall Field's was known for bridal registry. In Minnesota you just registered at Marshall Field's, or at least you used to. I'm glad I was married a few years ago, if I had to register now I don't know where I would go. Would I go to Macy's by default? I really don't like Macy's. Sad. Back on point...I went to Nordstrom last week and spent gobs of money on my ever shrinking chest to lift and separate 'the girls'. (Ugh. I really hate that phrase, but it just seemed so appropriate and Peg Bundy right there. (Hmmm, 'appropriate' and 'Peg Bundy' don't really work together, do they? Oh well.)) So now my bras all fit and they are so comfortable I could probably wear them to bed. Let's ignore the fact that I measured out to be one size and ended up buying a size that was completely different--this is where 'bra fitting is more of an art than a science' as the certified bra fitter said this morning, but I just think bra sizes are meaningless.

I think that's all I have to say about boobs. (Did you get that from the post title? Pretend you're a pre-teen boy. Do you get it now? OK then, whip out your calculator. You better get it now.) Get fitted at Macy's so Wacoal donates money to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. If you don't get fitted there, get fitted somewhere. And support Susan G. Komen for the Cure. Lastly, my friend was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago, went through treatment, and is now in remission. She is doing well and made us go out on Saturday night to let loose. It was more fun than I would have thought and as good of a reason as any to celebrate. In fact, Saturday was so much fun that I'm still recovering (and I didn't even drink!) and I plan to take a nap this afternoon because I GET TO LEAVE EARLY TODAY! I love Wednesdays.