This country living is going to take some getting used to.

Besides the fact that we can't get any sort of HIGH SPEED internet out here in the depths of East Texas (yes, people, I have to do this on DIAL UP. I will pause for the gasps and pity party............), tonight I realized there are many other things I am going to have to get used to living here.

I went to the grocery store, which is about 40 minutes away. Actually, there IS a grocery store a mere 5 miles from here, but it resembles a grocery store you might see on Leave It To Beaver complete with the wooden floors and a butcher named Fred. But, it does not have 1952 prices like on Leave it to Beaver and is only open until 6pm. So I go the 40 minutes if I need more than one or two items.

I was driving home after the grocery endeavor at about 8:15. To get home I must go down a two-lane country road for about 20 miles. It was dark and I was probably driving a little faster than I should have been. About 5 miles down I had to slam on my brakes. There were about 7 pigs in the middle of the road that almost became pork right then and there. They were pink pigs with black splotches on them. It was dark so I had a hard time telling if they were black markings or mud. Me, being a city girl (or at least the suburbs) didn't know what to do. I've seen cows in the middle of the road but never pigs. And truth be told I don't know what I can do if cows are there, either. The pigs were blocking the way. I honked the horn, but apparently when pigs are in pig school they don't teach them what horns are for. They just stood there staring at me. Chewing. I'm not sure what they were chewing.

I thought about getting out of the car, but hesitated. I've never been around pigs. Can they be mean? Do they run after you? Are these farmer's pigs or wild pigs? I decided they were farmer's pigs because they were pink and didn't have tusks. It was either get out of the car and shoo them or sit there all night, because the pigs had no intention of going anywhere. I got out of the car. I stood there, thinking "what do I do?". I tried "shooing" them, but apparently they don't teach them "shoo pig" in pig school either. When I decided they weren't going to bite me, I tried pushing one on the butt with my shoe. I don't think I pushed hard enough, it was more like a tap. Again, he just stood there.

FINALLY a man in a pickup truck came along. He got out and knew exactly what to do. He picked one up, then the other, then herded a few to the side of the road. I thanked him profusely, he called me "ma'am" several times, and we were on our way. I am sure he and his friends will have lots of fun talking about the city slicker girl he found in the middle of the road trying to shoo pigs without touching them. Oh, well. At least I gave someone something to laugh about.

This baby is sucking my brain cells.

It started a few weeks ago. I was working with a customer. I JUST had the pen in my hand. I went to write something else down, and I couldn't find it. I looked under my chair. I looked on the desk, under papers, in crevaces. Nothing. And the customer didn't do anything to help. He didn't offer me one of HIS pens to use. He just sat and watched me scramble. Finally I just decided I would remember what he was telling me. Why I thought THAT was a good idea was beyond me. I couldn't even remember what I did with the pen I had in my hand 5 seconds before that. That night I got undressed and discovered the pen was in my POCKET.

Then I made a copy of my birth certificate for something my mom needed. I couldn't find what I did with it or the original. And I keep losing my keys. And I forget to take my pills. I'll go to bed thinking of 7 things I need to do the next day and only remember 4 when I wake up. And my husband says I repeat myself. Oh, and my husband says I repeat myself.

I am afraid by the time I have the baby I will be so brain dead I will be drooling and bubbling. Or, worse yet, I will have the brain of Jessica Simpson.

Question: Is there an item you tend to lose all the time?

Deep Thoughts by Carol

My last day as a working woman was Friday. Thanks to all of you who said congratulations and wished me well already! It meant a lot. I have to admit, I am mourning the passing of this phase in my life just a bit. I spent 10 years doing what I was doing. I enjoyed the science, the travel (usually), the social aspects, the money, the independence. But, I am also pretty excited about this new phase in my life. The mommy/housewife phase. And although chances are good that I'll go back to work in a few years, it is also exciting to think that my options are open. I can go back to what I was doing, or if I chose to, I can go back to school to do something else. I feel very blessed that I have these options.

I've gotten some criticism for quitting. As I was a career woman, it would make sense that most of my friends were career women as well. I've heard things like "You are going to be bored", "You are leaving your job to live on a PREACHER'S salary? Are you crazy?", and "well, I guess it is your decision. I couldn't do it". The worst was from Bryan's grandmother. It wasn't WHAT she said, it was how she said it. She was just really condescending and rolled her eyes a lot. I'm tired of defending my decision. Working 50-70 hours a week and traveling is just not my idea of what I want to do with children. It's our decision.

So, Monday I'm going to do what a very wise woman told me to do. I'm going to SLEEP IN. Then, I'm going to organize cabinets, clean out sock drawers, do taxes, clean the garage, volunteer, pack and move, plan a graduation party, cook, and be pregnant until August. Then I'm going to sleep very little, breastfeed, and sing ABCs and lullabyes. And, ya know what? I CAN'T WAIT. I am SO excited I can hardly stand it. Welcome new life! I'm ready!

Question: Do you enjoy what you do for a living? If you could do anything you wanted in life, what would it be?

Public Service Announcement

I noticed a lot of you mentioned you don't like blogger comments because you can't see the original post. Just thought I'd mention that you can click on "Show original Post" which is in the left side just under the title and see it! It's an easy thing to miss.

Housekeeping. It was a little dusty in here.

I am playing around with my blog. I want to switch to Haloscan for the comments, but I don't want to lose the comments already on here. I'm attached to them. I like them. Oh, the dilemmas (I obviously need a life).

Anyway, I found one someone else's blog a link to this compatibility thing. I would tell you WHERE I found it but for the life of me I can't get back to that person's blog. If you have it just give yourself credit, please.

I found it fun, so I put the link there on the right side. Go do it (please) if you have a second. And if you do tell me how compatible we are. I like friends who aren't compatible with me, keeps the spice in my life, so don't worry. If we are 5% compatible I'll still consider you my friend. You may not visit my blog anymore, but, hey, I'll take the risk! :)

I also added my dog's blog. I stole that idea, too, from Adrienne. Seems like I don't have an original thought these days. You're thinking I'm wacked, I know. My dog has a PAGE. But people do weird things when they are pregnant. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Question: #1 Do you like Haloscan or blogger comments better? #2 if you actually did the compatibility thing, where do we stand?? #3 if your compatibility was less than 50%, are you still going to be my blogging friend? #4 Are you tired of my questions?

Oh, the anticipation

I am sure you are tired of hearing about my DH, but I have to brag again. My almost 17 year old niece, who I am very close to, is DATING. I am glad kids don't come out of the womb as teenagers. They come out as little, defenseless babies that are completely reliant for a reason. So that you have to invest your whole being into taking care of them and then you become VESTED. Then, when they become teenagers you have all this vested interest and you HAVE to deal with them instead of throw them back like a fish that's too small (I'm kidding, of course...sort of. :) Anyway, I'm just her aunt and I'm getting gray hairs watching this.

Because her dad is absent and has been since she was about 5 or 6 years old, my husband is the only male influence. He decided that before she gets too serious with this boy (it's just a puppy love mutual crush right now) he is going to take her on a "date" to show her how she should be treated. And he is going to tell her if any boy treats her any less, dump his ass. AND he is going to warn her about teenage boys. I think it's sweet he is willing to do this. And the kid is pretty open to it, so that's good.

Actually, she's a good kid. She is very moral, sensitive to others, and generally responsible. She IS a teenager, so she isn't perfect, but she has a good head on her shoulders. The thing that scares me the most, though, is she's CUTE, too. I've decided if I have a girl she is going to wear her hair in a bun, turtle necks, and baggy pants until she is 30. That ought to do it.

Question: At what age is it appropriate for kids to start dating?

Of Fire Ants, Minivans, and Garbage

Good things happen to me. They really do. I know after the last few posts I've written you're probably thinking that if you ever met me there would be a grey cloud over my head and showers just on me when the rest of the world was sunny. But, really, my life is quite happy.

THAT being said, today my alarm was to go off at 6:30am. I am SO not a morning person. SO not. I would stay up until 2 am and sleep until 9 am most days if I could. Unfortunately, the world doesn't work that way. I could get away with it some because my office is/was in my house, so I could flex my hours. But, if a customer wants to see me at 8 am, I've got to be there. And today they chose 9am. (for those of you saying "HA! Just wait 'till the baby comes, you won't sleep late! You won't even know what sleeping late IS!" ...I know, I know. I'm trying to enjoy it while I can).

Anyway, today for some silly reason I woke up at 5:30 am WIDE AWAKE. I was very irritated. I didn't go to bed until midnight. It just didn't seem right. I refused to get up. I laid there until 6:30 when the alarm went off, and then I got up. When my husband is grumpy I call him "Mr. Grumpy". This morning I was "Ms. Grumpy". So, Ms. Grumpy got up and realized she is out of both cereal AND bagels AND juice in her apartment. They have been the pregnancy staples for me in the morning. But, since I haven't darkened the doorsteps of the apartment for the last 5 days, I forgot and didn't go to the store. I had to have SOMETHING. I live like a bachelor here. I had no food. The milk was curdled. When you open the pantry there is a lonely little mouse eating the last crumb. I DID have a chocolate chip cookiethat I fought the mouse for. It was good, actually.

Then Ms. Grumpy went to clean out her company van becuase she has to turn it in on Friday and she had to get it repaired before that. So, she parked the thing next to the apartment dumpster. She opened the side door and started to clean it out. She put the icky stuff (How the hell did my van get that dirty?) in a little paper bag and stuffed the bag so full it tore and the crap went all over the ground. Ms. Grumpy looked down and realized that not only did the garbage fall on top of a huge mound of fire ants but that she was also stepping in the fire ant pile. I think at that point the ants realized I knew what was up, and I SWEAR I heard a tiny, itty bitty, munchkin voice say "OK, boys! One, two, three...BITE HER!" Because suddenly the hundreds of ants that had quietly climbed inside my pant leg to my knees collectively started biting. If you don't have fire ants where you live, consider yourself lucky.

I danced, and jumped and swatted. And pulled up my pant leg to wipe them away. I hope no one was watching outside their apartment window. Although, I am sure if any Native American was watching this they would want to know the steps for their next rain dance. Or perhaps a pop coreographer. I did acrobatic acts I didn't know I was capable of doing.

I picked up most of the garbage, but I'm ashamed to admit I left a couple of pieces there, hoping the guy with the long thingie that picks up trash was soon to follow. I hate litterers, but my fingers had several welts and my legs were swollen so bad I was looking like Violet from Charlie (Willy Wonka) and the Chocolate Factory who ate the gum and blew up like a blueberry. This is what my leg looked like (no, this is not MY LEG. But the welts are the same):

How the hell do you get pictures off the web here? I am so unqualified to be a blogger. Oh, forget it. Just go here.

I'm glad to say the rest of the day wasn't quite so bad.

Question: When you fall or trip (or dance because you are bitten by fire ants) do you look around to see if anyone saw you?

There are creeps out there.

I get a heck of a lot of ideas for posts by reading your posts first. Yea, I'm a moocher. Milkmaid was talking about the spa day her sweet hubby gave to her for valentines. It reminded me of a creepy thing that happened to me. Actually, a series of creepy things. (Not that what her husband did was a creepy thing at all...it was very nice, but, well, you'll see what I mean)

The position that I have that will no longer be my position as of Friday (YAY!) is that of a sales representative for a bio-tech company. I go to research laboratories to visit customers. Labs who do some sort of medical research. Some of these laboratories are government labs, so the security is high. You practically have to give them your blood type, firstborn, AND 3 sets of identification to get in. But, I digress...

Anyway, I went in to do training for these people on this new, really cool instrument. I spent the morning showing them how it worked. I was there with a guy co-worker of mine and a girl co-worker of mine. We were wrapping up, and one guy had some questions about another piece of equipment. He took me to another lab to show it to me. We were talking about it, then out of the blue he says "What does your husband do?" I guess he knew I was married because I wear a wedding ring. I replied "He's a minister". Because, in fact, he IS a minister. I will say that I have difficulty telling people that. People have these weird, misconceptions of ministers. And their wives. And they often start treating you differently. But, anyway, I told him.

He gets this weird look on his face. If you could see me I would do it for you. Then he says "Come here". So, me, being STUPID followed him. He took me down this secluded hallway to an office. He tells me to go in the office, which, again being STUPID, I did. I was really thinking he had more business to discuss. The office was really small with no windows, as it is an inner office. He shut the door. Then he tells me to sit down, and again, being STUPID, I did. The chair had wheels and he scooted it against the wall so if the door opened I would be behind it. I start then to get creeped out.

He then sits down, rolls his chair so that he is facing me, gets so close his knees are pushed up against mine. He grabs my hands so I can't move them. He gets right in my face, I mean an INCH from my face, and starts telling me how he has had visions from God about how he was supposed to start a church. He kept telling me about these visions and the things God was telling me he was supposed to do. They got weirder and weirder. I won't go into them here, and I'm not going to dispute weather people get callings from God. But I DO think that some people that think they are hearing God's voice are really just schizofrenic. And I fully believe, after hearing all of his visions, that he was one of the schizofrenics. I was waiting for him to tell me he did/was going to kill someone because God told him to. He went on and on for about 30 minutes, holding my hands and 1 inch from my face, while I was scared to death. Then he started telling me that his wife didn't understand and she thought he was crazy (imagine THAT), and that he knew I would understand (I had just met the guy that morning and it was all business until that point). He started telling me he loved me, and that I was beautiful. The guy still had my hands so I couldn't move them. I was SO afraid he was going to attack me.

FINALLY, just then there was a knock at the door. His boss was looking for us. He opened the door and I RAN out of there. I know she probably thought something weird was up. We get back to where everyone else was, and the girl co-worker of mine made a comment about how they couldn't find us. And I said "we were in his office" and he says to her "If you're lucky, I'll take YOU in there next".

We left and I was REALLY quiet. They asked me what was wrong, but I didn't want to talk about it. Finally, after a while I told them. The guy co-worker of mine told me I needed to tell my manager right then. I called him. He, being an insensitive jerk guy, said something like "Oh, that's a bad day. You need a massage to relax. I'll pay for it".

I was going to refuse. After all, after that experience the last thing I wanted was someone TOUCHING me. But, after a few days I figured I'd never had a massage. I might as well. I waited a month or so to get it, but I did. That's the first and last massage I had.

And from now on, if anyone asks, my husband is an accountant.

Question: Is there a question that seems innocent to those who ask it, but when asked of you you cringe?

Happy Valentines Day!!

I'm a hypocrite.

After my blah, blah, blahing about not wanting to do anything for Valentines Day and how you shouldn't HAVE to do anything for Valentines if you do it the rest of the year, my dearest husband did something anyway. He got me a little heart pillow with a cute pocket, a box of chocolates, and a nice card. And I liked it. I must be a hopeless romantic and I just don't want to admit it.

I think I might suggest going out to dinner, too. Although the crowds probably will be pathetic, so we may change our minds. But we haven't been out in a long time. Nothing too fancy. But someplace that doesn't have plastic tablewear.

Question: What did/are you going to do, a couple or single, for Valentines? Will you celebrate Valentines Day or S.A.D. Day? (If you don't know what S.A.D. day is...see this)

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad day.

My friend Deb gave up the "f-word" for lent. That made me think a bit. I've never been one to curse a lot. Or at all. I don't know why. Just never got into the habit, I guess. Oh, I'll curse for shock value every once in a while, although I don't tink I've ever said the f-word out loud. Like I said, no reason, really. I haven't ever flipped anyone off, either. Although, once I REALLY wish I had. This is the story....

I had just started a new job in Dallas. The company was to move us up there, but not until the house sold. So, hubby was still in the Houston area. It was my third day on the job. I knew no one in Dallas yet, and to make things worse my office was in my house, actually the temporary apartment I was in, and I visited customers. So I didn't have anyone at work to rely on either. I had been given a company car, but the guy before me trashed the thing. So, they were going to get me another, but they had to order it.

So, I'm driving down the tollway in this trashed Dodge Grand Caravan. Purple in color. I get just in front of a toll booth and the tire blows. And it jerks my steering wheel to the right, which made me go up on a curb next to the toll booth, which bent the rim on the blown out tire. Luckily I didn't hit the toll booth. One good thing happened that day.

So, I take the car limping, to the next exit and pull into a parking lot. Never fear, I'm a modern woman, my dad taught me how to change a tire when I went to college. So, I rolled up my sleeves (in my suit), opened the hatch and pulled back the carpet to get the spare tire. And it was FLAT.

Oh, great. So, what now? I know no one. I finally figured out that the leasing company that owns the company car has a service like Triple A. So, I call them. An hour later a tow truck shows up and tows me to a Firestone to get a new tire. They can't fix it that day because they don't have a rim for that particular vehicle. Fine, they call a rental car company to come get me and I'll be on my way.

I get the rental car. By now it is too late to see my customer, so I head back to the apartment. The Dallas traffic really sucked that day. I sat still in a traffic jam. The guy behind me apparently had his head up his butt. He rear-ended me. Thank GOD I had gotten the extra insurance on the rental car, which apparently I wasn't supposed to get according to the guy at my company, but since I was new and in this case he wasn't going to yell at me. Anyway, the guy who rear-ened me tried to get me to avoid telling the rental car place. Oh, yea, like they wouldn't walk to the back of the car EVER and would never notice that scrunched bumper! Jerk.

Anyway, now very frazzled and freaking out a little, wondering if this karma was going to follow me all of my days living in Dallas, I head to the apartment. Again. I went through this residential area and there was a stop sign. This stop sign was in the absolutely most STUPID place on the face of the earth. A speed bump would have been appropriate there, but a STOP SIGN?!? And me being new to the area I didn't see it. I was only driving 25 or 30, but I sailed right through. It just so happens an older lady had actually stopped on the opposite direction. Now, granted, I should have stopped. It WAS a stop sign. But I had a bad day. The older lady looks at me from her car, squints her eyes at me, tightenes her lips, and points her finger and wiggles it. As if to say "For SHAME". I regret not flipping her off. I'm sure it would have had every effect I intended. And I'm sure she would have squealed a "WELL, I NEVER!"

Question: #1 Have you ever had a conversation with someone and afterwards thought of 100 things you should have said? AND #2 Do you think I should have flipped the lady off, or was it better that I refrained?

I'm tired of talking about ME.

Seems like all my blog posts start with "I". I'm sure you are tired of hearing about ME. ME ME ME ME ME.

So, today folks, I'm going to talk about those in my blogroll. I don't have that many. I keep my very favorites over there. I have to REALLY like you to put you there. I visit them every day and rarely visit others, although I'm always open to suggestions of other good blogs.

First there's Happy and Blue. I think everyone knows him. He's a very popular guy. He has probably the most hilarious blog I've ever read. He makes me smile and ponder the meaning of life all at the same time. One day I was reading his blog and laughed so hard my husband was worried about me. Finally five minutes later I squeaked out what I was laughing at. My sister reads HIS every day but mine only when I beg her.

Next, theres Just my Junk. This is my friend Adrienne. She is a rather quiet, sweet lady. She is so considerate of others and has the mothering instinct of a bear. Don't mess with her babies. She's such a great mom. And lady. And friend.

Third is Odd Spot. Deb, now here's another that has the mothering instinct of a bear. She is an incredible mom two two sons with Asperger's syndrome. She has become quite the advocate on autism, and has congressmen coming to HER house. Not her going to them. She is one strong lady. And a great friend.

The next is On the Garden Wall . I can't say I know her well, because I'm new to her blog. But, she has the unique way of eloquently putting her stories so I know exactly what she is saying and feeling at the time. And she's pretty funny, too!

Then on to Rocks and Garbage. Angie got me into blogging in the first place. I think my husband is mad at her about that. And now she's gotten so advanced in her blog that I don't know if we can be friends anymore. (Kidding, Ang!). She is such a neat lady, always with a smile on her face whose caring goes to exponential proportions. She's always thinking of someone else. Probably because she has FOUR kids. (Yes, I counted them).

Next is Spilled Milk. The random thoughts of a Milkmaid. She is such a nice, down to earth lady. So non-judgemental and genuine. Her blog is nice and refreshing.

Last, but not least is True Blue 4Ever. Elle is so poetic, and witty, and writes so well you can tell what she's thinking and feeling. And so nice and sweet, too! I enjoy her blog a lot, probably because I feel like I relate to her a lot. Well, that and she writes so darn well.

**I had to edit this post as I just added another good one....Tidbits, Thingamajigs and Whatchamacallits. I'm new to Frally's too, but she is a good writer. And her mind works much like mine, which is scary.***

So, folks, check these dear people out. And, since I'm looking forward to expanding my blogging world:

Question: What is your favorite blog to visit and why??

Tamper Resistant.

I just opened a jug of water. Now, I feel I must put a disclaimer here. I don't buy water because I'm afraid of it. Or worried that it has impurities, lead or otherwise, or has been tampered with. I buy water for my Houston apartment (soon to not be my apartment anymore. YAY!) because the water in Houston tastes like crap. And I need to drink water. It is important. So, I buy the stuff. Simply as a taste luxury. In the little town that my husband is in, and that I soon will be in full time, I don't buy water. The stuff from the tap is fine. It tastes like water. Not like crap.

So, anyway, back to the reason for this post. The jug had that little plastic ring around it like the milk jugs do. (If you are from Canada, our milk does not come in bags, but jugs. Like this (Sorry, that's the best picture I could find). But you probably have the jugs there, too. I was just amazed by the bags last time I visited). I tore it off and then opened the cap. Under the cap was a plastic thingie that I then had to tear off.

I appreciate their concern for my safety, but I must say I think that is a bit overboard. After all, in the very same store is the produce section, where I can pick up an apple, no wrapper, no tamper resistant packaging, not even a dust cover, and eat it right there. It just doesn't make sense that you would need an armed guard and 4 pieces of identification to get into the water jug. I think the ring thing alone would make anyone wanting to tamper it to go over to the apples instead.

Question: Do you buy bottled water or use tap, and why?

My brain is dead.

Do you ever just run into a blogging fog? I'm in such a blicky mood, dispite the fact that the SUN is actually out today (woo hoo!). Nothing is new here. I have had no "ahh, ha!" moments in the last day or two. I've pondered nothing.

Well, that last statement is not true. I'm in a blicky mood because two people very dear to me are thinking of calling their marriage quits. I hurt for them. I can't imagine how difficult their pain is. I ponder how things get that bad, and I pray I never know.

Sorry for the downer post.

I think too much.

Why do they call it a DAY spa? Is there such a thing as a NIGHT spa?

Honey Do.

For those of you regular to my blog, I'm SURE you were on the edge of your seat wondering if I came through and quit my job like I said I was going to. Well, I almost chickened out, but my husband finally convinced me, and I did. My last day is next Friday.

So, I'm going to be a stay-at-home mom. But, the baby won't be here until August, so until then I will be a lady of leisure. I've never been a lady of liesure before. I've had a job since I was 15. Often two jobs.

Anyway, I'm feeling strange about the whole nothing to do thing. Even though I worked out of the house with my job I was out seeing customers 75% of the time. And working long hours. But between now and August we will be moving. AND I have to move out of my apartment, so that's two moves. So, I'll have packing to contend with. And Bryan will be finishing school (yipee!!) so I'll have to plan some sort of party thing. And family will be here for graduation. And he's got the first conditional ordainiation ceremony thingie that's a big deal which family will be here for. And we're going to have a garage sale, which will be mostly a PITA.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to doing all of the things I've put off for the last two years because maintaining two places was difficult. Especially when you are only at the bigger one two or three days a week. Before I was always an organizational, clean freak so to speak. I've been accued of being Martha. With the exception of the jail part. I've even put together a Honey Do list that I put on the fridge. Bryan has been adding to it, too.

1. Find a place for buttons that come with clothes that end up all over the house.
2. Fold the fitted sheets that Bryan was nice enough to wash but doesn't have a clue how to fold so he wads them in the linen closet.
3. Brush and floss the dog's teeth.
4. Clean garage
5. Clean and organize under the bathroom sink. Put misc. crap into plastic bins.
6. Clean out file cabinet.

If you can think of anything else I need to put on the list, please let me know.

Question: What household chore have you been putting off?

Strange Bedfellows

My husband talks in his sleep. Generally he doesn't give me any good information, per se. He doesn't reveal some swiss bank account he has been hiding from me or anything like that. But he DOES give me some good ammo for blackmail. And it's a great topic of conversation at parties.

For example, probably my favorite story about my husband talking in his sleep to share at parties (He's going to LOVE me when he reads this blog entry) is this one. We were married about a year. It was late 1993 or early 1994. In the wee hours of the morning, he taps me on the shoulder and shakes me gently to wake me up.
My irritated response is "What."
He calmly, yet matter of factly says "Call Ghost Busters".
Now, keep in mind, that movie was popular in the 80's. Well before 1993. So, I think I couldn't possibly have heard him right. After all, where could he come up with THAT?
I respond "What??"
He, again calmly and matter of factly, like he was telling me to call our insurance agent or something "Call Ghost Busters".
Now, I'm wide awake and trying desperately not to burst out laughing. I respond, half laughing "WHAT??".
He starts to get some sort of wits about him, and responds "Oh, never mind".
He then rolls over and goes back to sleep. However, I am now wide awake and shaking the bed I'm lauging so hard. He didn't remember a thing the next morning.

Last night at about 1am he did it again. No, not Ghost Busters, but he jumps up, startled, wakes me up and asks if I put something in his hair. Oh, yea, the light has been off for an hour and a half, I've been asleep, but for some reason I decided to get up, find something, and put it in his hair.
I responded "No"
He said "I felt something in my hair".
I asked if he was dreaming. He said "Maybe" and fell back to sleep. At that point he started snoring and I coudln't get back to sleep, so I did consider putting something in his hair as payback.

When I was little I would walk in my sleep. I was about four years old and saw the episode of the Waltons where they had the fire. It scared the begeebers out of me. My parents caught me trying to climb out of my second story window while sleepwalking in the middle of the night. Thank God they had a screen on it, and thank God four year olds don't know how to remove screens or I probalby would have been a goner. My parents had to bolt my window.

Question: Have you ever talked or done anything else embarrassing or noteworthy in your sleep?

Thanks to Angie for telling me about the baby ticker I put above!

Chocolate Cake Anonymous

My name is Carol and I have a chocolate cake problem (***pause for you to say "Hi Carol"***).

It started out innocently many years ago, when I was about six or seven. My parents got me an easy bake oven for Christmas. They would not have gotten it for me had they been able to see the future, I am sure. After all, how many cakes could I make when cooking with a lightbulb? Soon I was invited to birthday parties, where chocolate cake would be served. I would have just one slice like the other children. But I wanted more.

In high school there was an incident. It should have been a sign of things to come, but denial is a powerful thing. I went to a party and could not control myself. I had too much chocolate cake. By the middle of the evening the sugar rush had gone to my head. I danced on tables, put lamp shades on my head. I was the life of the party. But I had gone too far and the sugar rush soon made me crash. I had to call my parents to come and get me. I couldn't drive in that condition.

My parents thought it was the typical teenage chocolate cake addiction. They thought if they let me eat cake at home I wouldn't be tempted to do it with my friends and it would be safer. But by college I was turning down invitations to go out with friends so I could stay home and eat chocolate cake. And it got to the point that only the good stuff would do. No grocery store bakery cake would work anymore. I wanted the hard stuff....the chocolate cake mixes with pudding in the mix. I experimented with different frostings, I made black forest cake at night after my parents were asleep. I even made german chocolate one night.

I knew my problem had to be stopped this morning, though. I got up and, even though I am 12 weeks pregnant, I had chocolate cake for breakfast. With a glass of milk. Which is why I'm here, at chocolate cake anonymous. After all, admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery.

Question: What did you have for breakfast?

I'm going to do a marathon.

I'm so excited about it! I've always wanted to participate in a marathon. A lot of my friends have done it. They say it is very rewarding. I know it will be tough. I probably should train for it so I can endure the thing. I'm a little concerned about doing it while I'm pregnant. I'll probably have to stop and go to the bathroom a lot, but I don't see that as being a huge problem. And being able to say I did it will be quite an accomplishment. Something I can tell my children and grandchildren.

In fact, you can do it with me if you'd like! Oh, come on. We'll endure this marathon together. It's the Little House on the Prairie Marathon on The Hallmark Channel Sunday starting at 1pm Eastern.

I have a confession.

I am about to confess something that I am ashamed to admit. Something that I am sure will change the opinions that just about every one of you has for me. I am going to risk this, because I feel it is time to come out of the closet, so to speak. It is something that I've done for years, but I hid it. I'm tired of hiding it. It's time I faced the truth. It is time my friends knew me for who I really am.

I watch Matlock.

Yea, I am only 32. Yes, I realize the demographic for that show is 70-82 years of age. I don't know how I got hooked on it. It just happened. At first it meant nothing. I would watch Little House on the Prairie (You're probably wondering why I'm not embarrassed to admit that one!) and it was on afterward. But then one day I realized as I was looking through the TV Guide that I would make note of when Matlock was on. It has gone downhill from there. I find his cases interesting. The way he solves every one and never has lost. Well, it's like following a super hero! If I watch long enough certainly he will lose a case!

Before now when my husband would walk in the room and I was watching Matlock I would pretend I was surfing the channels. Or, that I was preoccupied with something else and didn't notice it was on. But, yea, it's time. I'm tired of hiding it. The first step is recognizing you have a problem.

Question for the day...What TV show do you watch that you are embarrassed about?

S.A.D. Day

I don't like Valentines Day. I know, I'm a girl. I'm supposed to like it. I'm supposed to get all giddy when my husband brings me flowers and candy. Maybe if I hadn't married the best guy in the world (sorry, girls, he's taken) who brings me flowers once or twice a year for the heck of it I would feel differently. But I think when he gets me the little somethings on no occassion it means a heck of a lot more than the obligatory Valentine.

But, in all honesty, I don't like Valentines Day because I have to reciprocate. What the hell do you get a guy for Valentines day? After 12 years of marriage and several years of dating before that the conversation heart boxers and chocolate that says "I heart you" gets old. He ACTS like he likes it. But then I find the boxers at the back of his underwear drawer by March1st.

And, I think we discriminate on Valentines Day. Discriminate against single people. My sister has had more than her share of bad relationships. She calls Valentines day "S.A.D. day". Single Awareness Day. I feel bad for her on Valentines Day. Although she usually makes a game of it. She'll go home from work, put on her plaid flannels, put her hair in a ponytail, light smelly candles, make a margarita, and watch a movie. Actually, that sounds pretty good to me. Maybe just for support, of course, I'll celebrate S.A.D. day, too.

Question of the day....How do you feel about Valentines Day??

The Moose is loose.

I woke up this morning in a relatively bad mood. My neighbors apparently have not resolved their differences. At 3:21 am I heard something like he doesn't realize she is a good person and I couldn't figure out what she didn't realize. His voice is lower than hers and he doesn't have that bloodcurdling scream. Honestly, if I wasn't a little afraid, I would go up there, knock on the door, and ask them nicely to keep it down. But, being a woman alone I was afraid no one would find my body.

So, already grumpy, and a little nauseous (still got that morning sickenss thing), I got in the shower this morning. Washed my hair. Got out of the shower. Toweled off, and then had one of those panic moments. I realized I AM OUT OF HAIR MOUSSE.

Oh, yea. I see you. You are rolling your eyes, saying something like "Stupid, vain woman". You just don't understand. I have curly hair. If I don't put in mousse or gel to tame the thing it gets out of control. If I walk out in public that way I scare small children. Men run in fear. Women protect their infants. Dogs howl. And, it poofs out so badly it is hard to walk through a doorway.

So, I put my hair up in a ponytail. Big deal, right? But, I never wear a ponytail unless I am working out. And I CERTAINLY wouldn't go out and meet with customers with a ponytail. You see, I have a "family" nose. Have you ever met anyone that had a nose passed down from their father that was in a beauty pageant? I think not. I think Clinger (Klinger?) on M*A*S*H was very proud of his "family" nose. Sam the Eagle on the Muppets has a family nose. I also have a complextion that the US Army has asked if they can drive their tanks on for practice because the craters are much like the sand dunes in Saudi. Oh, no, it's not pretty.

But, I DO have long hair. So, I use it as a shield. It hides the nose and complexion. I walk with more confidence. Cats don't claw my eyes out because they are afraid. It works.

After my work appointments this morning I bought two cans of Mousse. That way I will always have a backup.

Question: What is the one thing you would not want to go without on any given day?

Pass the Stick

Angie at Rocks and Garbage passed the stick to me. I'm new at this, so beware...

What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
31. Those were the 31 Simon and Garfunkel songs that I did not own. Yes, Simon and Garfunkel. No, I am not 65. No, I am not suicidal. I love those guys, though. They sure know how to harmonize. And the lyrics are untouchable.

The CD you last bought is:
The Essentials, by Simon and Garfunkel. I promise I DO have other song interests. They aren't the ONLY people I listen to. I'm not demented. (Oh, shut up. ;)

What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?
Purple Rain by Prince. I was in the car. It was on the radio.

Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you:
Geez. I am in my car a minimun of 9 hours a week, so I listen to a helluva lot of songs. What means a lot to me? Geez. OK, how 'bout:
1. The one with the guy who is singing about the girl he likes but she likes someone else.
2. The one that everyone really liked in the 80's that is no longer popular now.
3. Any song by Simon and Garfunkel
4. The one that talks about sex through the whole thing.
5. Oh, I almost forgot, the one that that really, really weird guy sings.

Who are you going to pass this stick to? (3 persons) and why?
Since between Deb, Angie, and Elle all of the sticks have been passed to the people I know the most, I am going to pick a few who I don't know that well (except Adrienne) and hope they get over it.
1. Adrienne at Just my Junk because she is new at this and she is the COOLEST lunch lady on the face of the earth. And one of the sweetest people I know.
2. Joy at Joy and laughter because she never updates her blog and it gets on my nerves.
3. ChosenDaughter at Singular Diva Blog because, well, she just seems very cool and sincere.

Never turn down a mint.

I went to a shindig tonight with my hubby. It was a dinner at his college. Mostly to rub elbows with those who he needed to rub elbows with.

There was a gentleman there...so sweet. Nicest guy you could meet. He came up to my husband and me and chatted. The thing is, the guy is a close talker. You know. We ALL know one. We started the conversation 10 feet from a table and he kept creeping so close I could see the vein in his neck beat. I mean, he was so close his shoulder was touching mine. So, I would scoot back a little. And he would scoot forward a little. Finally, next thing I knew I was stuck up next to the table with no where to go. I decided to bite the bullet and let him talk an inch from my face. After all, my back was starting to hurt from bending backwards over the table and it wasn't helping. He was bending OVER me over the table.

And then I don't think I really heard a thing he said because all I could think was I hope my breath was OK and I was trying to remember if I put on the appropriate amount of deodorant.

In the car on the way home I said to my hubby "so and so is sure a nice guy. He's a close talker, though". Bryan said that he noticed and it was pretty obvious I was uncomfortable. He noticed my scooting back. I'm hoping he just noticed because he knows me so well. After all, if the guy noticed certainly he would have stopped. Right?

Question for the day....What characteristic of people have you noticed that makes you uncomfortable?

This new bird feeder ROCKS!

I went to Wal-Mart and got a bird feeder. For the weekend place where my husband lives. If you've never had a bird feeder, I would recommend it. Of course, I think we are enjoying mine so much because we are in the country and the birds like it out there. We've seen little finches, blue birds, blue jays, cardinals, and other more interesting ones that I have no idea what they are. They haven't told me their names.

I was going to get this expensive feeder, but I went for a cheap $6 one. Believe me, you can spend a heck of a lot of money on a bird feeder. I chose cheap, hoping it wouldn't have the same outcome as the cheap toliet paper that I spoke of earlier. Good thing, the birds don't seem to care. They are loving it. We probably have 20 birds at the thing at a time. I think one winked at me and lifted his wing just a bit, as if he was saying "thanks".

Poll question of the day....What is your most prized posession? (And you can't say kids or pets. You're allowed to be materialistic this once.)

My previous post...

Wow. I didn't even have to put on my bunny slippers to feel all warm and fuzzy today after reading your comments!! :) It restored my thoughts of humanity...that the people who would like to spread joy out number the grumpy poopy heads 20 to 1.

I do seriously appreciate all of the sentiments. And don't worry, I wasn't losing sleep or anything over Little British Kid Poopy Head's comments. But I did give it a thought and that in itself perpelxed me. It did make me ponder why I blog. Hence the poll question.

So, I wanted everyone who reads my blog on a regular basis or even just pops in on an occassion to know that I appreciate it. It means something to me that you take the time to read, and even more that you comment. It brightens my day. And I appreciate your opening your lives just a little and letting me read your blogs, too!

Blogging...the good, the bad, the ugly.

I had someone visit my blog, which always makes me happy. However, this person wasn't very nice. I think he got up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe someone peed in his cornflakes that morning. Or, perhaps his tea, as I was looking at his profile and he is British. And 21.

I don't know why I'm letting his comment bother me. Or I even gave it another thought. And I wish I didn't erase it, but I did. He made a comment that went something like "who cares all about this stuff, you need to worry about your president and world peace" or something.

The thing that irritates me is he just doesn't get it. He just doesn't realize that if you focus on the bad things all the time you become this grumpy thing that he has become. It's not that I don't think of those things. I think after 9/11 I decided if I obsess about these things I will die young. You know, the 'ol serenity prayer "God, grant me the serenity to recognize the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference". I had nightmares after 9/11. I know a lot of people did. The last election had me in a tizzy, too. It was ugly.

I watch the news. It upsets me. It frusterates me. It makes me want to punch the TV most days.

Then, there is blogging. What Mr. kid British guy doesn't realize is I blog for FUN. I blog to vent. I blog to relax. I don't blog so the world will hear MY opinion of politics. I realize no one CARES my opinion. No one will change their mind because of my opinion. Now, if only the celebrities in Hollywood would get to the same conclusion.

This brings me to the poll question of the day... Why do you blog?

Living Spaces....Poll of the day...Wednesday

My weekday living quarters is an apartment. I am on the bottom floor of a three story apartment complex. It isn't the MOST expensive apartment you could find in Houston, but it isn't a hole either. It's respectable, clean, has nice facilities, and I don't think anyone has been murdered here.

My upstairs neighbors, however, never sleep. I'm sure of it. I hear them at 6am, 3 in the afternoon, and WAY more often than I'd like to at 2 or 3 in the wee hours of the morning. I think they have a love-hate relationship. I hear them fighting. A LOT. But I also hear a squeaky-squeaky noise that makes me think they are getting along quite well, and gives me nightmares all at the same time.

Many nights, however, I can only speculate what they are doing, the noises are too weird.

Here are my neighbor's top ten things they seem to like to do from the noises I hear at 2am.

10. Play Twister with small elephants
9. Invite the entire Boston Marathon participats to practice running in their megar 800 square feet.
8. Have a seance to extract the evil spirits out of their spaghetti-o's.
7. Cook vegetables in the shower
6. Do the entire Richard Simmons workout tape from start to finish. With roller skates on.
5. Try their hand at bowling using a frozen cornish game hen and 10 glass beer bottles.
4. Have a Jewish wedding ceremony.
3. Watch Titanic over and over until they sob uncontrollably.
2. Practice to play opposite Paris Hilton in the next controversial Paris Hilton video.
The number one thing?
Screaming at the top of their lungs

I think I'm just reliving my college years. When I was in college I lived in some pretty crappy places because they were cheap. I've stayed in a few hotels that were not so nice because my company's travel department didn't know what they were doing, too.

Now, the poll question: What is the worst place you have ever had to live or stay?

Worst feeling in the world.

When you bite into your Manwich sandwich and you bite something hard.

I'm going to throw up now.

Can't wait for Raspberry to be a teenager

This is an ACTUAL e-mail my sister sent to my neice's teachers:

Hello! Even though this is the most embarrassing thing for Krystal (so she tells me) I am needing her average again. Sorry to be such pest but her social life depends on it. Thank you!

Cyndi
Krystals "I can't believe she is doing this to me" Mother

ROFL! I can't wait for those teen years.

Poll of the day.....(I hope no one at my company knows about this site...)

I am quitting my job on Tuesday. I'm putting in my 2 weeks notice. I'm DOING IT.

Once I do it, will someone please make sure my pulse is still running? I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't have a heart attack or stroke right there. Or both. The only way I'm getting through today is that I know I have a week to change my mind.

I was going to quit to be a stay-at-home mom, anyway. Actually, I was going to quit a few months before that. But, being 4 hours away from my husband sucks. So, we decided eating raumen noodles and sharing a vehicle (as they say in Texas, veHICle) would be worth it so we can be together (ok, everyone together, say "Awwwww, how sweet"). Babies can grow in the womb when the mother's diet is limited to raumen noodles, can't they? Maybe I can chew on some clovers in the back yard for fiber. And we have a pecan tree. I can fight the squirrels for pecans. They have protein. And calcium, believe it or not. I looked it up. Not the squirrels, silly. The pecans.

Poll of the day: What is the WORST job you ever had?
And (this is a two parter): What is the BEST job you ever had?

I'm feeling BAD.

I started this "Poll of the day" stuff on Friday. I discovered Happy and Blue's site on Saturday. And, guess what? He has a poll of the day. He doesn't call it that, but he asks random questions based on past experiences or miscellaneous ponderings like I do. He has been doing it much longer than me. He is much better at it, too, I have to say.

So, Happy and Blue, I promise I didn't steal your idea. With your permission, I'm going to keep the "Poll of the day" because I like it. Unless, of course, you have your lawyer send a cease and desist letter. Or you ask me nicely to stop. Either way.

Go check out his site. It is hilarious. Full of adventure and mischeif. And mindboggling. All at the same time. Siskel and Ebert give it two thumbs up!

Poll of the day....Sunday.

I was at my sister's house on Friday night. I spent the night there because she lives 2 hours from my one home in Northeast Texas and 3.5 from my apartment in Houston. She was having a Stampin' Up party and I wanted to partake. (Those things are fun, BTW. If you know me on a personal level, don't be surprised if you recieve a hand-made card from me sometime soon. Please pretend you like it.).

I used her bathroom, as you would suspect I would being I was there for 24 hours. After I went potty I wiped myself and realized her toilet paper was the scratchiest stuff I've ever used. I was glad I didn't have a case of diarrhea because repeated uses of the stuff would have definitely given me a rash. And hemorroids. And I asked myself, is saving a few pennies on toilet paper worth it?

I use Cottonelle. I used to use Charmin, but when we moved here the church gave us a pounding (if you don't know what that is...well, I think it's a Methodist thing. Maybe not. They gave us essentials and canned goods when we moved in. Why they call it a "pounding" I don't know) and someone gave us a pack of Cottonelle. I discovered it was much nicer than Charmin. And the rest is history. But, I digress.

As you know I am going to be a stay-at-home mom soon. I am looking for ways to save money already. I know I'll have to switch to generic mayonnaise and cheap shampoo. But, after my experience at my sister's house, I have decided I will not scrimp on toilet paper. Even if I have to go and get a part-time job. No, siree, bub.

So, the question is: What is it that you will never skimp on, no matter how much you have to pinch pennies?

Poll of the Day...Saturday.

I know I'm not the only one that does this. I've asked a couple of my friends this question several years ago. One fessed up and the other said she didn't. So, now I need to know from a wider audience.

This is for the women. Well, men, if you qualify I guess you can answer, too.

Poll Question: Do you wear your bras more than one day before washing?

The way I figure it, they may be undergarments but it's n0t like UNDERWEAR, where you actually secrete body fluids. If I didn't sweat that day they are good for another go. And they are so sensitive to the wash, if you washed it after every wear then you'd be buying bras left and right. And those little (or big, depending on the person) elastic buggars are expensive!

I will say it took my husband a good 5 years of marriage to figure out I did this. And when he DID realize it he was very grossed out. I think he has now blocked it out of his mind.

Poll of the day.

OK, first, I must explain this poll thing. I have an unhealthy obsession with what everyone else does. Or, should I say, what the majority does. I'm curious. I'm wondering where I fit. So, I am going to start asking questions. Things I often ponder while driving in the car or taking a shower.

This first one I was wondering as I was looking in my refrigerator. I was thirsty, and being I just went to the store, I had several options. (which actually is unusual, because I absolutely hate going to the grocery store so I wait until I'm out of every blessed thing and have to clean my underwear with bar soap because I'm out of laundry detergent to go).

My opitons were: Coke, Milk, 7-up, water (with lemon), and Cran-apple juice.

Knowing full well that I should chose the milk for health purposes, or even the water, I decided on the Coke. Every time I do this I hear my parents-in-law in the back of my head. They think anyone who would drink something other than milk at mealtime are not only the products of bad parenting, but possibly the spawn of Satan himself. So much so that even though my husband usually choses a diet beverage at dinner time, if his parents are within 10 square miles of our house he drinks milk. We've never talked about it, but I know it is because he doesn't want to hear it from his mom. I don't blame him. Oh, and if you have a soda for breakfast in their presence (even though they drink coffee like it is going out of style) then, move over, you may not be invited back into their social circle. And you will certainly be talked about.

I do agree that milk is better than soda. I'm sure I'll have my kids drink milk or water.

Anyway, my hubby and I have a regular discussion of what most American's drink at dinner time. My theory is most drink a carbonated beverage. If you go out to eat milk is certainly not a common thing to order. If most people drank it, it would be. I think more people probably drink wine or beer at dinner than milk. He says I'm wrong. He says people drink milk the most.

So, now is the question: What do you drink at dinnertime? What do you make your kids drink?

They were THERE!

The arms and legs were there! Yes, we had our third sonogram this morning and everything is NORMAL (something about me is normal?) and moving along nicely. All four arms and legs were in their prospective places and wiggling, the heartbeat was 168 bpm (nicely in the 120-180 "normal" range), the cyst on my ovary went away, the ovaries are where they need to be so that the placenta is doing its hormone job now. And the BEST part of it all, the doctor said the risk of miscarriage goes down to 1% now. Woo Hoo! We got another picture and a video tape. I'll have to find someone with a scanner to post the picture.

Who would have thought you could be this constipated and this happy all at the same time?

I now switch from the "infertility/high risk specialist" to an average, every day Obstetrician. As much as I don't want to switch doctors, hey, it's a milestone.

Hmmmm.

I went to the store. I didn't get celery.

In the mind of a pregnant woman...

An actual conversation I had with myself earlier this evening, and one more reason I should be chained to the sofa.

My stomach is getting puffy. Certainly I'm not showing yet. I'm only 9 weeks. Too early. Does that mean I'm eating too much? I AM hungry all the time. But the thought of just about every food makes me want to vomit. And I just took one bite of an apple and threw it away because it didn't sound good. So, that can't be. Maybe the pregnancy is molar. I just read in the book how molar pregnancies cause a woman to get too big too fast. Oh, NO! No, you saw the heartbeat, dimwit. Calm down. Maybe I just need to eat healthier. Maybe that's it. Oh, no. The book said if you gain too much weight you can have complications during childbirth. What am I going to do?!? Celery! Buy some CELERY! The fiber would do me some good, anyway. Yea, definitely would. Go to the store NOW. No. I'm too tired. I wish I could teach the dog to go to the store for me. No. She'd probably eat all of the dog biscuits in the dog aisle and never make it home with celery.

OH. MY. GOD.

My dad went to Mexico to get his teeth cleaned. He is retired. My folks are on a limited income. They don't have dental insurance. So, they went. It cost him $10, American. He said he felt like it was sterile enough, and that it was a pleasant experience. Me...I'm glad I have dental insurance. Even though my copay is more than what he paid for the whole shebang. Whatever.

Anyway, today I had my DOG'S teeth cleaned. First, I have to say, I didn't ask how much it would cost. I had it done a few years ago by a different vet and it wasn't that bad. So, I didn't ask. But, holy crap, let me tell you. Well, I'm just too embarrassed to even TELL you how much it was.

I love my dog dearly. She's been mine for 12 years. And I think a lot of people would say I go beyond most when it comes to her comfort and care. But, holy CRAP. I think a cleaning for ME here in the US would have been less expensive. Now, they did do a lot of precationary stuff that they didn't do last time because she is in the beginning stages of renal failure. They gave her extra IV's, did extra blood work, and a lot of other things I have to squint at to pronounce. But, if it was going to be THAT MUCH more, you would think they would at least MENTION it.

And now she's mad at me...again. lol.

I wonder if they have doggy dentists in Mexico?

Reality Bites

I finally did it. I faced the reality that I'm not going to be skinny again for at least a year. I've leafed through clothes in my closet for about two years, not willing to get rid of them or put them away because I anticipated losing weight. Now that I'm prego I could finally admit to myself that I won't lose those 20 pounds anytime in the near future. So, I went through my drawers and closets, and made two piles: "Skinny" and "Medium". It is funny how the difference to me between "skinny" and "Fat" are only about 20 pounds. And a lot of my fat clothes I can wear when I'm "skinny" or "medium". And my medium clothes I can wear when I'm "skinny". But I absolutely cannot wear the skinny clothes at medium, or the medium at fat, even though the difference between the two stages is 10 pounds. It's probably a psychological thing. For instance, I have an issue wearing sleeveless things when I feel fat. I feel like my arm fat is flapping around. The thought grosses me out.

So, I figured instead of torturing myself every time I look in the closet or dresser, I would put them away in a nice plastic bin (or donate some of them) until I can face them again. Then it will be like getting new clothes!

Oldest woman to give birth

Oldest woman to give birth (67) has twin girls
Bucharest: A 67-year-old Romanian yesterday became the oldest woman known to have given birth, although one of her twin girls died soon afterwards. Adriana Iliescu, a retired university professor, had undergone fertility treatment for nine years before succeeding in becoming pregnant. Realitatea TV said she had given birth to twin girls, one of whom had died almost immediately. The surviving infant, which weighed 1.4kg, was in good health. The previous record was held by an Italian woman who gave birth to a baby boy at the age of 62. Doctors had implanted the egg of a young Italian woman which had been fertilised by her husband's sperm. Doctors who handled the Iliescu pregnancy maintained total secrecy about the case, which only became known to the Romanian public from one exclusive interview Iliescu gave on Realitatea last month.

Retired: In the appearance, the retired professor said she "had not been able to resign myself to not having a child". "I always dreamt of being a mother and now I'm experiencing the happiest time of my life, waiting to bring my twin daughters into the world," the greying academic had said. Iliescu said she did not feel the effects of her relatively advanced years. The case has sparked widespread controversy. "She will be too old to see her children grow up," lamented the newspaper Cotidianul, questioning the ethics of doctors who consented to her being artificially inseminated. But the Church has adopted a conciliatory position. "The Bible preaches love and procreation at whatever age," said the press office of Patriarch Bogdan Teleanu, head of the Romanian Orthodox Church. Lucia Cornea, of Romania's centre for assisted reproduction, does not agree: "It's a scandal." Gheorghe Borcean, the head of the Romanian medical profession's ethics committee, criticised the mystery that had shrouded the case." A case of such prominence should require academic debates and not just one single television report," he said. - Sapa-AFP Published on the web by Mercury on January 17, 2005.
© Mercury 2005. All rights reserved.

********

That's just wrong.

Pet Peeves

Tonight my hubby and I had three different conversations that had the same contents. They went like this:

Him: mumble...mumble...mumble

Me: HUH?

Him: Oh, well, I was just...nevermind.

Me: What did you say?

Him: Just forget it!

That's on my top ten pet peeve list. If I take the time to say "HUH" (or, heaven forbid I actually put some effort into it and say 'what' or 'pardon me') then he should tell me what he said.

Some other pet peeves:

1. People playing with used pieces of paper (yes, many a friend has told me they can institutionalize me for that one)
2. Unorganized cabinets. This drives me INSANE.
3. Sheets that are messed up before you crawl in bed. (Bryan is VERY aware of this)
4. Loud noises or the TV up too loud (this one scares me considering I'm having a baby soon)

The more I look over these the more I wonder if I SHOULD be in an institution.

One of my friends, Angie, has a pet peeve of the sound of cotton squeaking. I still laugh at that one. My other friend, Cindy, has a pet peeve of any condiment. Mustard, Mayo, Ketchup. They gross her out. Although I don't know if that's more of a pet peeve for her or if it has gotten to the 'phobia' stage. Yea, she's that crazy when it comes to condiments.

Do YOU have a weird pet peeve??

Upclose and personal

Just thought I'd post a picture of our baby at 6 weeks! This was about 2 1/2 weeks ago. Yea, that's a baby, if you can believe it. Well, a baby and my uterus. Nothing like an upclose and personal picture of my insides posted on the internet!


Ultrasound

We saw and heard the heartbeat at this ultrasound. You just can't fathom how amazing that is until you experience it. This friday we're supposed to see the arms and legs. Woo Hoo! I get nervous before my doctors appointments. But I'm getting more relaxed as time goes. I still can't believe it, though!

Bryan asked me nicely not to bore people with a bunch of ultrasound pictures. I figure, though, if I post it here you can just scroll down if it bores you.

According to BabyCenter.com

Your Pregnancy: 9 Weeks
How your baby's growing: Your new resident is nearly an inch long — barely the size of a grape — and weighs just a fraction of an ounce, but he's poised for rapid weight gain now that his basic physical structure is in place. He's also starting to look more and more human. His embryonic "tail" is now completely gone and his body parts — including organs, muscles, and nerves — are kicking into gear.His eyelids are fused shut and won't open until 27 weeks. He has earlobes, and by week's end, the inner workings of his ears will be complete. His upper lip is fully formed, too, and his mouth, nose, and nostrils are more distinct. The tips of his fingers are slightly enlarged where his touch pads are developing. All major joints — his shoulders, elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles — are working, enabling your baby to move his limbs. As for his heart, it has divided into four chambers now, and the valves have started to develop. External sex organs are there, but won't be distinguishable as male or female for another few weeks.

Raspberry is now a grape!

I'm clueless!

The more I get into this pregancy the more I realize I know nothing. When do they start on cereal? When to they start walking? When do they start talking?

I was watching Nanny 911 last night (OK, nothing I'm proud of), and as pathetic as those parents were with their kids, I kept thinking "I know nothing about raising kids. What if I'm as pathetic as these people and don't have a clue like they don't?" I mean, this woman was screaming at her kids and she didn't even realize she was doing damage to the poor little things!

Would one of you PLEASE tell me if I'm that pathetic at child rearing?

Teachers

My cyber friends and I were chatting about teachers, and it made me reflect on a teacher I once had.

The best teacher on the face of the earth was a woman by the name of Pat Beisel. I had her in 4th grade. She normally taught 3rd grade, but was put in 4th this one year to fill a need. She was single and put her heart and soul into teaching. I think the thing that made her the most unique is she thought outside the box. She taught us the three "R's", but she also taught us how to treat one another. She also wasn't afraid to talk about world issues and how they effected us. She treated us in 4th grade like we were "somebody" who had opinions and mattered. She had spent time teaching in Japan and Germany, and took what she learned there and taught us all about it. She showed us slides from both places and explained the different customs they had. Twenty-Two years later I still remember seeing those slides and hearing her talk about it.

I remember one school picture day. There was a little girl who came from a very large, very poor family. Her clothes were rarely clean, and her hair never combed. As we all know elementary school kids can be cruel, and most kids avoided her and didn't include her. This particular day we were standing in line waiting to get our pictures taken. I remember miss Beisel coming up to this little girl and telling her how pretty her dress was, and then asked her if she would like her to comb her hair. The little girl's eyes lit up. You could tell she was just tickled that someone cared enough to comb her hair. I was only about 9 years old when I saw this, but even then I understood the situation. And I understood Miss Beisel was a special woman for doing the things she did. She taught me that day to be kind to everyone, no matter how unpopular.

I also remember her teaching us about what is right and wrong. The school had a laminating machine, and Miss Beisel would let us laminate our art work to bring home. She wasn't supposed to do this, after all, it was expensive to laminate stuff. The principal found out and she got in trouble. She actually had the guts to go in front of the class and to tell us that what she did was wrong and she was sorry, and that she couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't believe that an adult was admitting to us 4th graders that she was wrong! It made me respect her even more.

When I moved from Pennsylvania to Texas after 4th grade I had a hard time adjusting. I was so worried about moving and missing my friends. Miss Beisel took me aside before the end of the last day of class. She told me she understood that I was scared about moving. She gave me her address on a little piece of paper and told me I could write to her any time when I was homesick. And I did. And she wrote back. And when I wrote her a particularly upset letter when I was about 13 and going through that 13-year-old-girl-rough-stage she even called me! For about 15 years we were pen pals. I visited her twice when I went back to PA. Unfortunately, I haven't written or heard from her in the last couple of years. Last I spoke with her she was retired and was getting married for the first time to what sounded like a wonderful widower that she had known for years. I sure hope it worked out. If anyone deserves to live happily ever after it is Miss Beisel.

Do you have a teacher who you particularly admired? C'mon! Tell me about it!

To the "lady" whom I would love to say this to...

Why do you enjoy being destructive? I just don't get how someone can actually ENJOY being miserable, back stabbing, and destructive. What do you get out of it? It HAS to be something, otherwise you wouldn't do it.

Why do you do and say things behind someone's back that are mean and then to their face act caring and sweet? Yes, this passive-aggressive behavior does take us longer to realize how you are, but when we do (and we ALWAYS do) it makes you that much worse.

How can you do this and call yourself a "Christian"? I realize I'm committing a sin just by saying this. By judging you. And it makes me even more mad that you are making me a horrible Christian, too, because of the things I am thinking about you and feelings I have toward you. Yea, you are truly a test. And I'm having difficulty not failing this one.

Perhaps you should examine why you take this destructive approach toward things, instead of the adult, mature, constructive approach when you think things need to be fixed. Oh, wait. I guess I know why you don't do that. Because no one else in the world thinks your things that need to be "fixed" really need to be fixed. YOU are the only one making them a problem. If you are the only one in a croud of 150 people that think this, perhaps you should admit you are wrong, then. If you would like a REAL problem, beleive me, the world has plenty of them. Why don't you pick one of those?

If you want to live in misery, then please, please, do not make the world live that way, too. One bad apple really does spoil the whole bushel.

Anyone know a good pregnancy journal?

I wasn't going to do one. I have a blog. It's about as much journaling as I ever thought I would do. But I'm getting pressure to do a pregnancy journal, so I thought I would at least investigate. The only one I found talks about "me and my PARTNER". Such as "I told my partner I was pregnant by....." and you fill in the rest. As much as I'd like to think I'm a modern woman, I would rather it say "husband". Or even as if talking to the baby "I told your daddy I was pregnant by...."

Now, I don't want a bunch of posts saying I have a problem with gays. If I want my journal to say "husband" because that is who my "partner" is, then that's OK. If someone would like it to say "partner" because that is who their "partner" is, let them buy the book.

This is interesting.

How depressed should I be that NOTHING good has happened on my birthday in history. Oh, OK, it was the birth of Quantum Theory. Whoope. (yea, yea, you physics buffs out there are going to give me hell for not being excited about that. Forgive me. It's not like it was the day the human genome was discovered!)

This day in History

I'm headed to Tucson

Tucson, Arizona. Hmmm, is there a song about that place? I guess not. In my head I'm singing "Hotel California" and replacing "Tucson, Arizona". I guess that doesn't fit.

Anyway, yearly we have sales meetings and this year it is in Tucson. And, I'm going to sound like a spoiled brat here, but Tucson is a downer. Not to insult anyone who lives there. But, I've been with this company for almost 5 years now, and they've sent us to Maui, Hawaii twice, Puerto Rico once, and well, even Boca Raton, FL was better than Tucson. The temperatures there are going to be even colder than they are at home. But, alas, I shouldn't gripe.

Usually it's a fun time. People get together, drink on the company dollar, learn a lot and have a good time doing it. Every year on the last night we have an awards ceremony where we dress up in semi-formals and have a dance. (as a side note, Bryan has a big problem with this, being they don't allow spouses on these trips. I see his point. And there DOES tend to be a lot of hanky-panky that goes on. It's sad that people can't be responsible adults and still have fun). Last year the last night I literally stayed up all night and drank way too much. As a team builder we made "movies" based on old movies and adding our own scripts. We were "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". We actually changed it to "Bitch" Cassidy and I was "Bitch". It was a blast. Then the hotel TV played all of them on their courtesy channel. So, we drank and chatted until 2am, then about 6 of us went to my room to watch the movies until 6am. Of course I won't be doing that this year, being prego.

Honestly, I think I'm getting to another phase in my life. A phase where I'm ready to settle down, forget the traveling, get past the selfish "me" phase, and stay at home on Saturday nights taking care of little ones and watching movies I get from Netflix. Good thing, too, considering I'm pregnant and going to be cutting our income by a very, very considerable amount. We'll be lucky to afford Netflix. (OK, not that bad. lol.) I'm sure my contentness to sit my fat white butt on the sofa won't last. When the kids get older we'll be active. I'm just not the type to sit around. I still have a "list" of things I want to do in life before I die. But, I'm ready to put the list away for a few years.

My dog is mad at me.

She's mad. She won't speak to me.

Two reasons really. First, at Christmas I gave my sister this Kermit the Frog doll. Not that she's 7 or 8 years old or anything. She's 35. But we both love the muppets and because she's single we're always joking that Kermit is her prince. So, I got her a Kermit doll.

We started goofing around with this thing, taking pictures. Then Casey, the dog, became the object of the pictures with Kermit. It was probably one of those things that you had to be there for, but we laughed, and laughed, and laughed.


Casey and Kermie

That was just the start of it. You see She's lost a lot of weight. Her sister died in April, and shortly after that she was diagnosed as being in the beginning stages of renal failure. She is now on a low-protein diet. Which, thank goodness, is helping her renal issues. But the combination of the depression from her sister and the new food, she's lost about 3 or 4 pounds. And she's only a 15 pound dog to begin with.

And, to top it all off, Bryan likes to keep the place cold. He is always hot. But poor Casey, now that she has no fat on her, likes it warm. So, she shivers.

Which leads up to the second reason she's mad at me. I bought her a sweater. She hates it. And I'll be the first to admit she does look stupid. And to make it worse Wal-mart had ONE sweater left and it looks like a BOY sweater. I wasn't about to drive 20 more miles to get to petsmart to look for a girl sweater. I've never been one to like those things on the dog. Dogs do like their dignity. I don't care what people say.

So, now she won't look at me. Except to give me a dirty look. I swear dogs can give dirty looks.

What's in a name?

It's going to take all freakin' nine months for us to think of a name for this kid. Anything I like Bryan doesn't like, and vice versa.

So far we've come up with

Girls:
1. Rachel
2. Laura
3. Angela


Boys:
1. Brayton
2. Jacob

Although something may sound good one minute and get scratched off the list the next. I think we're going to just wait until we know the sex to make it a little easier. Lord knows we have time. We're only 6 1/2 weeks into this 40 week adventure.

Or, we could just stick with "raspberry".

We'll start with this.

We saw the heartbeat! It's amazing. This baby, now fondly called "raspberry" by Bryan because we read that he/she is the size of a raspberry right now, has only been fertilized for 30 days and "raspberry" already has a heartbeat. We were marveled at the doctor's office when we saw it on the ultrasound. How incredible! We could hear it, too. This thing, which honestly looks like an alien in my stomach right now, is a miracle.

Am I normal?

Every little thing that I'm feeling in this pregnancy I'm so paranoid about what's "normal". I'm so afraid to rejoyce in this pregnancy because of the paranoia. I'm having trouble embracing the nausea, the fatigue, the excitement. Maybe it is because we tried for four years before we got pregnant, I don't know. I hate to use that as an excuse. There was a woman I used to know from church that always talked about how her kid was more "precious" because he cost "$70,000" because they had to do invitro. What a hag. That always pissed me off. And I don't want to sound like that AT ALL. But I'm so paranoid that this is another cruel joke. Another test from God. A mean tease. So much so that as excited as I am, in the back of my head I'm scared to DEATH to enjoy it too much. And then I worry that my negative thoughts will cause bad things.

I keep thinking everything is too perfect. It is perfect that the baby is due in August. It is perfect that I'll be quitting my job in May, a month before we move. It is perfect that I'll have two months after we move before the baby is born. My husband is perfect. My life is perfect. Why am I not marveling in the joy of it all? In the blessings? I guess I can answer that. Maybe I don't feel like I deserve this. Who am I? I've never done anything good. I certainly do not deserve this.

Is my sore right ovary normal? Is the occassional slight pain? What IS normal anyway? It doesn't help that my marathon running/fast talking doctor is constantly reminding me the chances of miscarriage. I suppose I shouldn't hold it against him, because he IS an infertility/high risk doctor. He probably sees it a lot. (although I'm told I'm not high risk at this point) The good news is I went from a 20% chance last week to a 10% chance this week. Why does he have to tell me that? In three weeks I'll be down to a 1% chance. I keep thinking, though, that the doc only gave me an 8% chance of getting pregnant the first month after the surgery.

But, hey, the baby doesn't know statistics. Right? My friend Jerri who lost her baby when she was 30 weeks pregnant didn't care about her statistics. 1% meant nothing to her. It was 100%. And the millions of babies who make it. Their chances are 0%.

I need to be positive. My mom is a very negative person. It is difficult to be around someone who is so negative. Although, I haven't really voiced this to anyone, but negativity radiates. You can just tell. OK, remember what I said about the art of positive thinking? From now on I'll be positive. I HAVE to be positive.

I'm HAVING A BABY! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now everyone knows.

We told our family Christmas eve about the baby. Our Christmas eve tradition is to have a light dinner, go to church, and open gifts. In the days before we went over and over how we were going to tell. We thought maybe we would put the ultrasound in a frame and wrap it for the parents, wrapping up a "baby's first Christmas" ornament and writing "coming 2005". Lots of things. Finally we just decided to tell them. We were going to do it after everyone opened gifts, but we just couldn't wait. So, we decided to do it when we ate dinner.

When we sat down Bryan was asked to say the blessing. He said "before I say the blessing Carol and I have something to tell you. We are going to have another person at the table next Christmas. Carol and I are going to be parents".

Bryan's mom squealed. Everyone else gasped. They were really excited. We told them about how we found out and everything. It's about time this family had a little one!!

I had told my sister a few days before. She kept saying "oh, my God" over and over. You'd think it was HER that was going to be pregnant!

Bryan's brother Criag was the only one that reacted like a jerk. He has always been jealous of Bryan (even though Bryan's mom admitted that he was her favorite when they were growing up. But that's another story). He didn't say a word. When someone said to him "you're going to be an uncle" his only response was "a lot of people call me uncle". Jerk.

Bryan spent Christmas day calling the other relatives. He was so cute, telling everyone. His brother Eric reacted the most unexpectedly. He is Mr. Texan Red-Neck and always swore he would never have kids. When we told him, though, he was so excited! He even said he wants to try to take a week or two off when the baby is born to come and help and see the baby!

Who would have thought??

Who would have thought I would be happy about severe nausea, sore boobs, fatigue and moodyness? If I don't have symptoms I worry. All of this is such a cool experience. Who would have thought?

I'm still in shock, I think. It hasn't sunk in. Even with the nausea. lol. Holy crap!

I'm going to be a MOM!

OMG! I am so excited. I've known for two and a half weeks, but we were waiting to tell the folks on Christmas so I didn't want to squeal.

On December 13th, the day before my birthday, I was supposed to start. I woke up that morning and went to the bathroom as usual. I don't know what posessed me to take the test. I had an expired test under the sink and, I guess I figured it was expired so what the heck. Anyway, I took it and IT WAS POSITIVE! I couldn't believe it. I stood there and stared at it for a good two or three minutes. I dug the instructions out of the trash to read again. And again I stared. Finally I decided it wasn't sleep in my eyes or anything I ate that was causing hallucinations. I ran out to the bedroom and showed the stick to Bryan. He had no idea I was taking the test. He said "We're pregnant?" I said Yes, but the test was expired. We didn't want to get too excited until we took a non-expired test. So, we got dressed and went to the store and bought a three pack. They confirmed it!!

Bryan I think was letting it sink in. Well, we both really were. I called the doctor and they said if I came in that morning they could have the test back by the afternoon. I told them I was in Edom, four hours away. They were kind enough to fax the orders to the hospital in Tyler and we went there. By 4pm they called and said "congratulations!".

We're due August 22nd. As of today, I'm 61/2 weeks along.

Holy moly. I can't believe it. Wooooooooooo Hooooooooooooo!

OK, OK, I've learned my lesson!

The kids in the church talked me into having a lock in. I decided I must have inhaled something funky that I didn't realize would make me do crazy things when I agreed to do it. At least I had the sense to make it a "Christmas Lock-In" so I didn't have to do a Christmas party AND a lock in. AT LEAST I had that much sense.

So, my friend Angie gave me some links to some great games to play with the kids. (I asked her because she has as whole mess of kids. Four to be exact. So, I figured she would know some good games, and she did!).

The lock in was last night. The kids were really great kids. Fifteen of them in all. We had a few 18 year olds that helped as junior chaperones and four adults took turns doing shifts. I don't think I could have managed without my sister helping and another lady. As well as Bryan, of course. It was a long 12 hours, though. It was fun, but I am FREAKIN' tired.

Now, I know enough to RUN if kids ever ask me to do another lock in!

I guess parents never stop embarassing their kids.

Our church gives Christmas gifts to the elderly in this nursing home that do not have family. We had a list of names, and the coordinator of this project stood up in church and said she needed more volunteers to take names and buy stuff. After service I told her I would take one. There were two left. She handed me one and took the other. I understand why she gave me that one. The woman whose name was on the card wore a 4x size.

Not to complain, but you can't just go anywhere and find that size. Thank God I go to Houston by weekday. There's a specialty store for large women here. My parents happened to be visiting, and it was my mom's birthday, and we were eating dinner next to the store, so I asked if they minded stopping in there before we left. No problem.

Dad stayed outside, and mom and I went in. We started looking for clothes, but none of them really looked like nursing home material so we were just kind of wandering aimlessly. A clerk asked if she could help us, and, here's the embarassing part, mom blurts out "we're looking for clothes for an OLD, FAT woman". LOL! OMG. I wanted to crawl under the table. I said "Mom, we don't use that word". Like my mom is 5 and she just said "shut up" or something. The clerk had the last laugh, though. She said to my mom "Oh, believe me, you aren't fat". ROFL

My mother just informed me...

That the last two times she saw me I was wearing all black.

She said I should wear another color besides black.

Well, I have to say that is a coincidence, because I DO wear other colors besides black. But a pantsuit generally has the same color top and bottom. So, if she happened to see me both times in a pant suit that was black, that's just how it is.

Although, I have to admit, I have worn MORE black lately because I've gotten so freakin' FAT. Maybe I'll just wear black until I lose those 10 or 20 pounds I spoke of earlier. Yea, that will thrill mom.

Why can't I lose weight?

I need to lose 10 pounds to be happy and 20 to be ecstatic. In the larger scheme of things it's not that much. I SHOULD be able to do it with my eyes closed. After all, I see "so and so lost 100 pounds in 10 weeks" or other rediculous ads all the time. But on a more realistic level, if I put my mind to it I could shed 10 to 15 easily in 6 weeks or so.

So, why don't I do it?

It isn't that I forget about it. I obsess over it all the time. When I get dressed every morning I go into a state of depression. When I go to the bathroom I obsess over it. When I eat I obsess over it. When I look in the mirror, see an old friend, work with someone I haven't worked with in a while, go shopping. It is CONSTANTLY in the back of my mind. When I have sex (I know, too much information) that's all I think about, and if I have to go clothes shopping, well, just don't come near me for at least several hours unless you want to be in a bad mood, too.

But I don't do it.

I eat the crap anyway.

Oprah (oh, yes, Oprah) says there's a reason more than the fact that the food tastes good that people overeat. If that's the case, then what the hell is MY reason? I wasn't abused as a child, my parents didn't divorce, I never felt overly ridiculed and I always knew my father (like Wynnona Judd says is her reason).

Just lose the freakin' 10 to 20 pounds already! Get off the I-hate-myself bandwagon! Can't be that complicated!

Geez, I'm such a loser.

Another funny story about Jerri Lynn

Jerri had a husband who was a snuff-chewing good 'ol boy. She told me once about a time they went to K-Mart together (back when there still WAS a K-Mart in Texas).

Jerri loved Icees. There were many a day we would go to K-Mart together and get an icee and sit and chat. We drank those things as our social drink just like most people drink coffee. This particular day her husband and she went to K-mart together and she got her usual icee. They walked around the store and shopped while she drank her icee. She finished most of it, and asked Stephen if he wanted the rest. He took it and they resumed shopping. They stopped to look at something and Stephen asked her to hold the cup while he picked something up. She did, and proceeded to take a sip from the straw. Little did she know he FINISHED the icee and was now using it as a spitoon for his snuff tobacco!!

AAAKKKK! I'm gagging thinking about it!

Jerri Lynn

Speaking of people you lose contact with, do you ever have anyone you regret losing touch with? I had a great friend in college. Her name was Jerri Lynn. To best describe her personality, I'd have to say she was a cross between an East Texas hick and a hippy. Which I know sounds like an oxymoron, but it describes her in a nutshell. Her family were mostly hickish. In fact, they always used both her names and said them together like one word...Jerrilynn.

It's kind of funny how we met. In college I was a Chemistry major and was a lab TA. I taught the labs for Chemistry for non majors (aka. cowboy chem), General Chemistry for science majors, and Analytical Chemistry. It was the second class of my General Chemistry lab, and we had just begun. This girl walks in late and says, "Sorry. Oh, and I wasn't here last week so I'm going to have to make it up". Of course, I'm thinking "yea, this girl is a loser".

A week or two later she and I happen to walk out of the Chemistry buidling at the same time and our cars were both parked across the parking lot way far away. So, we walked together. As I said before, it's funny what you remember about conversations with people. She had a half of a coconut and was eating it. I remember her telling me that coconuts were never meant to be ingested, you are supposed to suck on a chunk and enjoy the flavor, then spit it out. Anyway, during that walk to our cars, I found out she lived in Conroe, too, and commuted the 30 minutes to school every day like I did. So, we agreed to save money and start car pooling.

We became fast friends. We talked every day. In fact, I was there when her first son was born. She had called my house because her water had broken and her husband was out of town. I was still up at the school. Bryan answered the phone, but she didn't tell him what she wanted. She just asked if I was there and he said "no, she's at school". She said "OK, thanks" and hung up. Bryan called me at the school to ask me something and mentioned Jerri called. I don't know what possessed me to call her back right then, really. I probably wanted to ask her if she wanted to go somewhere with me or something and had a few minutes. I called and she asked what I was doing. I told her. I asked why she called and she said "Oh, my water broke and Stephen is out of town. I was going to ask if you could drive me to the hospital, but it sounds like you are busy. I can drive myself, it's no big deal". OMG! I ran to my car and drove 90 miles an hour all the way there. I got there in 20 minutes and rushed her to the hospital. Silly girl! I could have killed her. Unfortunately, her husband didn't make it back to see the birth. That part was sad.

She was hilarious without trying to be. She was a lot of fun.

Anyway, she quit college and became a stay-at-home mom. I graduated from college and became a career woman. We lost touch. I haven't talked to her in over 6 years. Now I'm sad. Maybe I'll look her up on the internet and send her a Christmas card if I can find her.

Small World

When I graduated from College I was a Research Associate (which is a fancy word for a Lab Tech with a Bachelors degree) for (ironically) a fertility research lab. I had a boss named Mitzi, PhD, DVM.

With my position now I go into various and sundry labs visiting. I had a meeting with a gentleman at a particular company. As we were going into the conference room, he says "I have invited Mitzi, one of our VP's to join us. She should be here shortly". My ears perked up, because, geez, I haven't met another Mitzi in my life, much less another PhD reserach scientist named Mitzi.

Lo and behold, she walks in. The meeting turned from a business meeting to a reunion. It was so nice to see her. We ended up going to lunch and catching up on what we've been up to the last 8 years.

One of my rants. Don't mind me.

I saw an article in the Dallas Morning News on, I think it was Friday, about teen pregnancy. I've thought about it every day since. The article focused on a family and three generations of unwed teen mothers. The grandmother had a child as a teenager, and the child, in turn, did the same thing. Then she dumped her baby off on the grandmother while she would disappear for days with her man of the month. That baby in turn had FIVE kids as a teenager (granted four were quadruplets, but still). None of the fathers were around. They mainly focused on the girl with the quadruples and another baby. She had no high school diploma, no job and was on welfare.

That story infuriated me. I'm not sure what the author was trying to do. Make me feel sorry for her? I don't. It sickens more than anything. It is one thing to make that mistake ONCE. But then to go out and do it AGAIN! And she was quoted as saying "I want to make sure my kids don't repeat what I've done, I want them to go to college and then get married". I just DON'T UNDERSTAND how this person can do this and then not put the kids up for adoption. If she truly wanted that for her children then IMHO she would have made sure a two-parent household who lived on something other than welfare adopted the baby. How selfish can you be???? There are well established families out there with hard working parents who maybe aren't rich, but desperately want children. The waiting time to adopt an infant in the United States is over TWO YEARS. There are so few available. (Yes, I'll admit I have vested interest in this.) It would be one thing if this girl had a steady boyfriend who wanted to marry her and try to make it work. Or even a job.

Better yet, don't have sex at all. Especially after the first "oops" you would think she would learn her lesson. SEX IS NOT NECESSARY FOR SURVIVAL. It is NOT. As much as it feels good at the time, it is NOT NECESSARY. People CAN obstain. They do it all the time. Get a vibrator if you "need" it! They are a lot less cheaper than a baby.

I do not feel sorry for this woman. I feel sorry for her five kids who could have very little chance to do anything but what she's done. People who make mistakes in this country have ample opportunity to fix their mistakes. And they chose not to.