The Rose Bush

I generally have a green thumb...except when it comes to roses. For some reason when a rose bush sees me it immediately withers. I will try not to take it too personally.

Bryan has given me mini-rose bushes before thinking they would last longer than roses. You could almost hear the things squeal the minute he handed them to me. Maybe I have Halitosis or something, but I just breathe on the things and they start to shrivel. Geez. How rude.

When we moved into the parsonage in the middle of nowhere East Texas, someone came to the house to welcome us with...you guessed it...a mini rose bush. I was determined to keep this thing alive. I read books and the internet on the subject, I repotted the sucker into the type of soil it was supposed to like, I pulled off the dead blooms, I read it bedtime stories, I did a Native American growth dance, and I even let it sit in a little lounge chair while I sat with glasses perched on the end of my nose and a little pad and pencil and listened to it's problems. It died on me anyway.

Our first day at the new church they had a welcome reception for us. They had a nice spread of cookies, nuts and punch. Donning the table was a centerpiece with a MINI ROSE BUSH in the middle. And the sweet little grey haired lady serving the punch said "the rose bush is for you to take home when this is over". I think she could see the immediate fear in my eyes as she stepped back a little. I thought about begging her not to do that to the poor little rose bush, but I figured that would be in poor taste.

After it was over and I walked toward my husband with rose bush in hand, his eyes got very large. He said "Is that for us?". I said "Yes, wasn't that nice?" Hoping he would have forgotten the thousands of rose bushes that sacrificed their lives before this one. His response was "How long will it take you to kill this one?"

I decided not to even try. After all, I put my heart and soul into the last one only for it to die on me. The more emotion I invest the more heartbreaking it is when I see the last leaf fall slowly from the stem. So, I watered the thing and put it on the windowsil of the kitchen. That was three weeks ago. I have watered it, and that's about it. Now it has beautiful dark green foliage and buds galore.

It likes me! It really likes me!

If it dies I'm going to bury it in the back yard and put a little cross out of popsickle sticks. It's never too early for funeral planning.

The birthing class

We started our birthing classes tonight. The whole experience was quite interesting. Is it possible to flunk this class?

The nurse started out by having us introduce ourselves. We were all supposed to say when we were due, what it was going to be if we knew, and what our greatest fear is about having the baby. I decided that I was pretty relaxed until I heard everyone else's fears. As each person mentioned what they were worried about, I started thinking "Oh, yea, that IS a concern" and "I hadn't thought about that!". And then they ran the tape warning about preterm labor. By the time I finished the tape I became quite the hypochondriac and started thinking I've had or was currently having every symptom they mentioned. "OMG! Was that a pain? uh, no, that was just the baby moving." "Oh, no, was that a cramp? Oh, no, just gas". Sheesh.

And then the very nice nurse had us lay on the floor and had our husbands massage us for relaxation. Obviously this woman has never had a massage from my dear husband. Quite often I wonder if he is actually trying to relax me, give me a rug burn, or crank a model-T. Relaxing? Uh, no. Try as he might, poor thing. I gritted my teeth as she put on soft music and in a soothing voice kept saying "concentrate on relaxing...relax...relax...". Then Bryan started cracking jokes and we got glared at from the nurse. I made him be quiet before she sent us to the principal.

We did get a nice tour of the facilities. The birthing rooms are great, but once you actually get the kid out they put you in these tiny rooms that resemble a coat closet only it has cable TV. Really, besides the size they are very nice. We went by the nursery and we saw the tiny little babies in there. I had to walk away as just seeing one made my eyes water. Yes, my hubby is going to have a long post-partem time with me. Get ready, dear.

Karen's Meme

Karen from Karentertainment tagged me for a Meme about 100 years ago, but I hadn't done it yet due to my computer/internet/moving problems. So, here it is!

10 things I've never done:

1. Gone on a cruise
2. Met any of my grandparents
3. Eaten frog legs, alligator or bugs of any kind
4. Played hopscotch
5. Had a one night stand
6. Seen or read Alice in Wonderland or Bambi
7. Written to a famous person
8. Camped overnight in a tent
9. Worn a girdle
10. Played the lottery

There ya go! I'm not sure who has done this and who hasn't...so if you want to do it, consider yourself tagged!

All is right with the world again...

After reading my previous blog I realized I was getting upset over things that were so minor. I mean, in the overall scheme of things the pregnancy is going well (with the exception of minor things but at least they are minor FIXABLE things), the move wasn't TOO disaserous, and overally I'm pretty blessed. I guess we all have our good and bad days. Especially while pregnant. I have been so whiny lately, I'm not sure how hubby has put up with it. ..."My back hurts", "My side hurts", "The baby is kicking my insides", "The baby is on my bladder", "This gestational diabetes SUCKS", "I want a milkshake and I can't have one", "My feet are swollen", "It's hot", "I can't walk fast","I can't get comfortable". Just a few of my whinings over the weekend. All in all things could be much worse. Come to think of it, my whininess bled over to my blog. So, this is an official "Sorry 'bout that".

The cable company gave me a new modem, the water company aplogized for screwing up and reduced the bill from $250 to $37.50, and the satellite company is sending me a new receiver. I won't complain about how UPS lost it, but it is on it's way now.

Anyway, I'm hoping tomorrow I can start blogging on a daily basis like I used to. And I'll try to make my new entries much more interesting than this one.

AAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

Well, here I am...with DIALUP (at a mighty 14 kbps). My cable modem crapped out on me after about an hour on the internet. I have a technician coming tomorrow between 10am and 12pm. IF he shows.

*bang* *bang* *bang*

(That's the sound of my head banging on the wall as I rock back and forth in the fetal position.)

Well, it will give me more time to call the water company who sent me a $250 water bill (no, in the two weeks I have been here I did not use $250 worth of water). And the satellite company because our satellite TV isn't working, either.

Or, I could just crawl back in bed and pull the covers over my head. Maybe after I finish rocking.

Could it be??

Part two of my internet disaster....

The cable company, who I now refer to as the spawn of satan along with my sister's dog (but that's another story) did finally call me. They set up an appointment for last Wednesday between 4 and 6 to come and connect our cable internet. I had a church dinner thingie I was supposed to go to, but I realized some sacrifices have to be made if you want certain other nicities in life, so I opted out of the dinner to sit for the cable man. Four o'clock came. Four thirty. Five thirty. Ironically the Seinfeld episode where Cramer waits for the cable man and then taunts him comes on TV. I enjoyed that immensely. Six PM comes. I thought maybe they were just running late. Seven o'clock came and I phoned the cable company. I get into this horrendous automated loop that always ended with some supposedly soothing but rather annoying female computer voice saying "You have an appointment on Wednesday from 4 to 6. To keep this appointment press 1. To cancel it, press 2". Apparently annoying computer voices can't tell time because it was well after 6pm. I would press "1". It would say "Your appointment has been confimred. Goodbye!".

Finally I outsmarted the computer (OK, there's a first time for everything.) and called from my cell phone, so they didn't know who I was. I finally got a live person, who forwarded me to another live person, who had me on hold for about 20 minutes. She came back and said "They will call you to let you know when they are coming". I say "Does that mean they are still coming today?" after all, it was well past 7:30 by this time. She said "I'm not sure".

Now I'm really missing the baked potatoes and salad I was supposed to have at church instead of the leftover cold frozen pizza that I accidentally left in the microwave too long while watching the afore mentioned Seinfeld episode and, therefore, chewed like cardboard.

Finally at 9:30pm, having already given up and changed into my PJ's, I get a phone call from a woman who apologizes profusely and asks if I'll be home tomorrow (last Thursday) for them to come. I said after 3 pm. She said they would be here after 3 pm Thursday.

OK, so 3:30 pm they show up. Great! Finally! Right? Wrong. The guy comes in, goes into this long complaint about the last house and how the lady had "a zillion kids running around" and how it was difficult to work there, and then proceeds to tell me that no one told him I needed a new jack put in and he didn't have time to do it. Sigh. Realizing my pregnancy hormones are at full force as the day before I practically lost it on a guy who wanted to charge me for ranch dressing with my calzone, I chose to instead of losing it on him right there rather count to ten and reschedule for the following Wednesday. That would be today.

A different (thank God) guy who was pleasant came today and had it done in an hour. I thought about hugging the guy but he was drenched in sweat from being in my attic. I do have my limits as much as I do appreciate him.

So, no more 14 k speed internet! I will be on regularly again for your blogging pleasure. Or more MY blogging pleasuere.

I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth!

Would you believe that I now, as of Monday, live in civilization (more on that later) and I am having a harder time getting internet access than when I lived 40 miles from the nearest grocery store? I'm amazed.

Anyway, we did the much anticipated move on Monday and Tuesday (much more on that later). I hooked my computer up and hoped to use dialup until I could get something better. Believe it or not, in the stix I got about a 52kbs dialup, but here very close to Houston I get 14.4!! That's ugly. So, I click on a page, go bake a cake, wash the dog, take tap dancing lessons, click again, learn to cross stitch, meet the neighbors, click on the next page. You get the idea.

OK, no problem. I'll just get DSL. Certainly it is available here. It JUST became available in the stix from which I came. I called the phone company..."Yes! We have it available there!". Great. I sign up. They came by today and said they were wrong. Something about copper wiring, blah, blah, blah. I say "Hey, it's a brand new house! It can't have old wires!" They say something about lines from the central office...copper...whatever. I just don't get it. I wasn't supposed to have these problems living closer to the city. My cell phone actually works here, and it didn't work in the stix.

Fine, so now my only option is cable modem. Well, and satellite internet, but that's too expensive. Tonight I signed up for cable. Online. It literally took an hour to get through the pages to place the order. Sigh.

So, I haven't visited your blogs because, well, at this point the frustration is about like grating your knuckles in a cheese grater. And I'm already hormonal, being pregnant and all. I have read your responses to mine (thanks for that! Some of your drunk/peeing stories were funny! Oh, and the iron pills seem to be helping the energy just a bit, although I admit I may have overdone it a day or two moving. Don't know the results of the 3 hour diabetes test yet, but thanks for asking).

I am supposed to hear from the cable people within 72 hours. If you hear a scream coming from the Southern United States, well, that's just me if the cable company says they can't do it, either.

Now I get to click and wait for this to post. Maybe I'll learn a foreign language like Spanish waiting. Better make that Chinese. It will take a little longer.

Times Change

I had lunch with one of my friends the other day. She and I used to do a lot together. Amy and I have been friends for about 5 years. We worked together at the bio-tech company I worked for until I quit in February. We had some good times. Good times.

A couple of years ago we had a work meeting in Boca Raton Florida. Amy and I, along with about 4 of our co-worker guy friends decided to go a couple of days early and go to Key West. Our husbands couldn't go, but told us to go have fun anyway. So, we did. We found a place to stay...a trailer park with two single wide trailers, one for Amy and me to stay, and one for the four guys. These trailers were 2 bedroom one bath single wide mobile homes and...well...icky. The nastiest things. But they were cheap for Key West, right close to everything, and the beds seemed to be clean, so we took them.

The first night we went out to the strand and had a great time. We saw the sights and bar hopped and people watched. Some of us had too much to drink (OK, for the record, NOT ME!). When we got back to our trailers it was around 2am. The guys proceeded to their trailer (well, stagger was more like it) and they realized they had locked the wrong lock and didn't have a key to get in. The office of this trailer park wouldn't open until 8am, so they were screwed until morning. What could Amy and I do but offer our place? I bunked in her room with her, two guys stayed in my room, and one on the sofa in the living room and the other on the (albeit nasty) floor. OK, not the most ideal accommodations, but they were all nice guys and we were fine with it.

At about 4am Amy nudged me. She whispered "Carol! Someone is in our room!" I opened my eyes and squinted in the dark and said "Who IS that?". One of the guys was just standing there at the foot of the bed looking at us. COMPLETELY NAKED. You would think we would have been a little more startled, but for some reason we weren't. Finally we realized it was David. He turned around like he was going to go back out, then he turned toward us again, started to crawl in bed until he realized someone was there. Then he said "OH, excuse me". He turned around and stood, staring at the wall. We then heard a trickle. Amy said to me "Is that what I think it is?" I replied "Uhhh, I think so". David peed on the wall. He then proceeded to walk out. Amy got up and locked the door. And then we giggled. And giggled. And giggled until the entire trailer shook. We couldn't stop giggling.

Oh, the next day David remembered NOTHING. We made him clean up the pee. He was SO embarrassed. He said "what happens in Key West STAYS in Key West, right?" Yea, right. We teased him inscescently. And we all agreed not to tell anyone at the meeting we were all going to, but that lasted about 5 minutes. It was too juicy to keep. Now David is known as "The guy that peed in the girl's room in Key West". Poor thing. And since I've repeated this story I've learned it is apparently common when a guy gets way too drunk to pee in the most inappropriate places in their sleep.

Amy and I had a lot of times like that. Now Amy is in the middle of divorce and is ready to have the partying single life again. I'm about to be a mom and have little interest in bar hopping and the party life. Our lunch was sad, really. There were quite a few moments of silence, where we ran out of things to say. Oh, we chatted about the baby and about my old work (where she still works). But it wasn't the same. It's kind of sad in a way. But times change, and people change, and situations change. I'm sure Amy and I will exchange Christmas cards every year. I sure hope we keep in touch enough to know how life works out for her.

High hopes

I got a call from the doctor and she said I have low iron and may have gestational diabetes (have to go in for more testing for that).

So, you're not SUPPOSED to feel like crap while you are pregnant? I have been so tired lately. I just thought it was all the moving and family here for my hubby's probational ordination service thingie. I have never been considered LAZY, but I sure have been lately. I mean, packing has been such an effort. It takes me 5 times as long to do anything as it used to.

I'm hoping these iron pills will be like a can of spinach for Popeye. I'll pop a pill and get all the energy I need to spin around and get things done in a jiffy! Or maybe even they will work as "smart" pills. I'll have so much energy to think I'll be able to write wonderful blog entries that are both humorous and intellectually challenging.

OK, I know you aren't holding your breath.

Random thoughts while driving/packing/moving/celebrating

We're finally at the tail end of this three week long moving/celebrating fest. Anxious to get in the new place and get settled. Only one more 8 hour round trip and one 4 hour one-way trip left to Houston! YAY! Then I am going to park my car in the garage and never leave again! (OK, not really. But I'm not traveling for a long, long time).

Anyway, the following are random thoughts I've had lately...

**Buzzards. They get no respect. God was not merciful to these creatures when he made them. I mean, lets face it. They are ugly as sin. Yet, they do so much for us. They clean the road-kill. Can you imagine if they didn't eat road kill? We would have all kinds of creatures decaying and stinking on country roads. We should be thanking these birds. But do we drive down the road and say "OH, LOOK! A BUZZARD!" like we would a bluebird, or a hummingbird, or a painted bunting? No. We say in a dissapointed way "ewww...a buzzard". So, I today say all hail to the buzzard. And thanks for being the sanitary workers of nature.

**Words of wisdom...if you are going to buy a house it may LOOK like a good idea to have the laundry room upstairs with the bedrooms. And your father may say it won't be a big deal to get the washer upstairs. But make sure he knows that the staircase is one of those "broken" ones, where you go up a few steps then turn on a landing and go up a few more. And that the dolly won't be able to turn on the landing. Nothing is as unsettling as watching a clothes washer tumble down the stairs on top of your husband.

**Why is it that old people like to bombard you with newspaper clippings? Maybe it's just the old people I know. Or, come to think of it, I'm thinking it's not OLD people, but just my husbands family. Or maybe just people from Minnestoa, as that is where his mom's family is from. I don't think hubby grandmother, aunt, or mother have ever read a newspaper without a pair of scissors in hand. Every time I see them or get a letter from them I get 5 or 10 from each of them. And it is usually stuff that I can't figure out why they would think I would be interested. Or a recipe. Yet I feel obligated to read them for fear I will get 20 questions later. Is this a common phenomenon?

Now, I'm going to take a nap while I can! That is...if I can find the bed in between these boxes.

Popping in!

Thought I would peek a moment between moving boxes and celebrations. I miss my blogging friends!

Closed on the house, got the apartment I had in Houston moved to the new place, working on packing the house, cleaning, etc. All this while trying to keep my legs and feet from swelling like elephants, and trying not to lift anything major. Oh, joy.

The church had a baby shower for us the other day! It was so nice. Much against all my better judgement....Here's a picture...see how I'm becoming pleasantly plump? And I have three months to go. YIKES!



And now for a moment of sappyness....this is a warning. Bare with me:
I am amazed at how you can love something you can't see. I can feel this baby moving inside me, I can even SEE her move when I look at my tummy. But I am so amazed how I can love her so much. I don't know what she looks like. I don't know her personality. I don't even know if she'll be easy or difficult. And none of it matters. I love her anyway.

Now, go visit David at Amateur Dad and wish him well...they are inducing his wife TODAY!

Grandmas and Minnesota

Imagine an 84 year old woman and an obviously pregnant woman walking through the airport together. If you were in the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport on Thursday that would have been the scene. I flew up to the twin cities on Wednesday, rented a car, drove to Mankato and picked my hubby’s 84 year old grandma to bring her down for his upcoming graduation/ordination festivities. She is afraid to fly alone and I was elected to be her escort. I spent Wednesday night at her little apartment and we took off at 7:30am for the airport again on Thursday.

I love his Grandma. She is a sweet little old lady. She walks slow, shuffling each foot an inch at a time. She can’t stand for long. She can’t see very well. Her hearing is poor. But grandma has no problem talking. BOY can she talk. And talk. And talk. And talk. All of these features combined make for an interesting two days when you are alone with grandma for that long.

I got to her apartment at 3:30 p.m. She was standing at the door waiting for me with her coat on already, even though I told her I would be there between 4:00 and 4:30 p.m. She hugged me and immediately said “Are you hungry?” My husband’s family will NOT let anyone starve. They will let you in the house, shove food down your throat, and massage your tonsils while it is on the way down.

I said “Grandma, it’s 3:30. I ate at one o’clock on the plane”
She said “Oh, I think you must be hungry”
I barely got out “but really, I’m n….”
Grandma, halfway out the door “Lets go! I’m sure you’re hungry”

OK, some battles aren’t worth fighting. We went to her favorite restaurant, the Dam Store. She emphasizes the “DAM” part of the name and giggles whenever she says it. I wonder if she doesn’t like the restaurant just because she is an old very Lutheran woman who doesn’t curse, and she’s allowed to say “Damn” when she says “Dam Store”. Anyway, this is a hole in the wall place. The tables are warped and crooked. The seats are tearing. The floor is coming up. But they have great home-cooked burgers and shakes. The young woman behind the counter makes rhubarb pies that her grandma taught her how to make. This is all grandma needed to know to make it her favorite restaurant.

The temperature was 45 degrees in Minnesota. That night Grandma said “I turned on the heat to 78. I know Texas is a lot hotter than here!”
I said “Grandma, I have flannel pajamas. We don’t keep it that hot at our house! Don’t you normally turn your heat off? Really I would be more comfortable……”
Grandma replied “I think you need a fourth blanket. Here is a wool quilt”
I said “Really, Grandma, we keep our air on cooler than th…..”
She said, “Oh, you must be tired!”
I said “Grandma, it’s 8 o’clock”
Grandma said “Oh, it’s so late! I’m going to leave you alone so you can go to bed”
I said “Really, I never go to bed bef….”
Grandma was halfway to her room. Truth is, she goes to bed at 8 p.m. And I laid there with flannel pajamas and no covers in a pool of sweat all night. Watching the clock.

The entire two days I think I maybe finished one sentence. She told me the life stories of her hairdresser, neighbors, the manager at Old Country Buffet, her minister, her various cousins, nieces, nephews, their spouses, and repeated stories about her husband when he was alive. And then she repeated the life stories of hairdresser, neighbors, the manager at Old Country Buffet, her minister, her various cousins, nieces, nephews, their spouses, and repeated stories about her husband when he was alive. Then She repeated them all a third, and if they were really good fourth time. Many times she would say “Did I tell you about so-and-so” and I would say “Yes, grandma, you di….” and she would start on the story and go on and on.

In the airport we were a scene. She had to have a wheelchair so she couldn’t go through security. She had a fit when they put the metal detector wand over her and patted her down. She didn’t understand why her metal earrings were OK going through the X-Ray. When they came with the cart of drinks on the plane she asked me how much they were. I told her they were free. She said “certainly they aren’t free”. So, she asked the flight attendant anyway.

By the time we got to our house on Thursday at 5pm I was exhausted. I went to bed at 8:30 that night. SHE, the 84 year old woman, however, was wired. She stayed up until 10:30 pm repeating the stories about her hairdresser, neighbors, the manager at Old Country Buffet, her minister, her various cousins, nieces, nephews, their spouses, and repeated stories about her husband when he was alive to my husband. I think I heard Bryan squeak “but” and “Yes” twice. I’m not sure.

I'll never learn.

One thing about me that my husband has always griped about is...I never learn. I don't know the word "no". Well, I KNOW it. I just typed it over there. But I'm the first one to say "I can do it!", or other variations of that phrase. Need a cake for the church bake sale? "I'll do it!" Need a babysitter? "I'll do it!" Need someone to clean your house because you are recovering from a hospital stay? "I'll do it!"

I've had two businesses that went from hobbies to full-fledged business, to so successful I couldn't handle it on my own with my full time job besides. You would think after the first one I would have learned. But no. (Hey! There's the word again!)

So, when I realized I would be 6 months pregnant when moving several months ago, and when people offered to help, I should have jumped at it. But no. I said "Oh, I can handle it! No problem!"

That wouldn't be so bad...except...I also volunteered to fly up to Minnesota and drive two hours one way to pick up my husbands 82 year old grandmother and then the next morning drive back to the airport and fly back with her. I also volunteered to have the family here for the weekend for my husband's graduation (With a Masters of Divinity! Woo Hoo! He finished!) Yes, during the middle of a move. I also volunteered to bake a cake and decorate it with my new cake decorating skills for a congratulations/good luck party the church is giving my husband. I also volunteered to make a flower arrangement for a brunch next week. I also volunteered to have a picnic for the family (12 people) in two weeks at our NEW house for my husbands commissioning ceremony.

All of this while packing, getting things turned on, getting things turned off, and I'm still also moving out of the apartment I had while working in Houston. BESIDES moving out of the house to a new one. So, I guess that really qualifies as TWO moves. At once.

Why don't I listen to my husband? Before I was pregnant I would get myself in a time crunch, panic, lose sleep, but I managed. But now I keep forgetting that I'm 6 months pregnant. And now, my feet are so swollen that I can't put my shoes on, my back hurts, and it took me two hours to clean two bathrooms today. Yea, I'm in trouble.

So, if I'm not on here much (I'll be off and on for the next three weeks) you know why. And try not to say "I told you so".

Opinions Please!

Got my hair trimmed yesterday and the hair stylist asked me if I wanted my hair flat-ironed. I have naturally curly hair, and generally just wash, dry and go. But if she was willing to go through all that extra work, I thought, "Hey! Might as well go different!"

So, I had my hair straight for the day. And then my family got into a discussion over weather I looked better with straight hair or curly. And one family member STRONGLY said I should straighten it every day. And the other three said the first one was crazy, that the curly hair was the best on me. So, I thought I would ask you all what you thought. Should I straighten it on a regular basis? Keep it curly?

Keep in mind, the pictures aren't the best. One makes me look like I have a fake tan (which I DO NOT). The other makes my face look bleached (which is probably more accurate.). But I think you can see what you need to of the hair in both.

My Husband Likes Frilly Little Girl Clothes

He is going to kill me for this title if he reads my blog. Which he never does, so I think I’m safe. Well, he does if I grab his ear, staple his butt to the chair, and pull it up for him. But I only do that if there’s something REALLY good on it. And we all know how often that is. Unfortunately.

Anyway, we went to babies R us to change some things on our registry. Since I had gotten some advice on here and other places on what to and what not to register for, we decided to go and make changes. I’m glad we didn’t start out registering at Babies R us. That place is intimidating, and if Target and Toys R us had our head spinning I’m sure Babies R us would have sent us into a permanent shock. Permanent shock generally isn’t a good idea BEFORE the baby is born.

I started looking around. Bryan is NOT a shopper. He tries very hard to appease me. I pretty much know I have about three hip shifts (you know, weight on right leg, arm leaning on a clothes rack is the first hip shift. Then weight on left leg, hand under the chin is second shift. Then the third and final shift is back to the weight on right leg) before he starts loudly sighing and I must make my purchasing decisions and go quickly because he is about to explode.

I had to go through the baby clothes section before I left Babies R us. How could I not?? Especially since we are having a little girl. Those little girl clothes are so ADORABLE. I started walking through there, expecting him to lightly pull me back to the isle. But, he followed. So, I started looking at the frilly little girl dresses. And I said “This is so cute!” I looked out of the corner of my eye to see if he was on the first or second hip shift. I almost swallowed my gum when I realized he hadn’t even gotten to the first hip yet. So, I decided to push it.

I picked up a dress and said “Dear, isn’t this the cutest?” I waited patiently for the eye roll and the “Yes, now let’s go.” However, much to my surprise he said “Yes, that really is!” I looked up at him again. After all, when I was little once I went up to a woman at the grocery store thinking she was my mom and asked her to buy me some spray cheese. The woman made a noise and I looked up and ran. Hey, I was only about 5 and had never been so embarrassed. I thought perhaps I made the same mistake with some other man at Babies R Us. But I hadn’t! It was Bryan morphed into some unrecognizable little-girl’s-dad mode.

Next thing I new, HE picked up a little frilly dress and said “Look at this one.” If I had a medic alert button around my neck I think I would have pushed it at that point. My head got dizzy. My throat went dry. I was about to fall and not be able to get up. I was in such bliss. My husband was actually enjoying looking at little girl clothes with me. I didn’t know how to act! I started to worry he had broken out with a fever that made him delirious.

I picked up a few more things to look at, a cheerleader outfit from our favorite sports team (yea, I knew THAT would get him), an Easter dress. No hip shifts. No eye rolls, no “Hurry up”. More “Oh, yea, that’s cute too”.

The whole ordeal lasted about 10 minutes. I decided I better leave after that long because if he did morph back into his hip-shifting-eye-rolling self the moment would have been ruined forever. Yes, in 12 years of marriage I’ve learned how far to push.

Forget everything I've said.

My last few posts have been about not being moody while pregnant and liking old people. Well, I decided after my experience today...I lied.

Unfortunately, because I live in the sticks, I have two choices for grocery shopping. Pay twice to three times as much at this mom-and-pop-shop which is 10 miles away, or go to the discount superstore that starts with a "W" that is 40 miles away. Yea. That one. I rather dispise this place, as I stated in an earlier post.

Once a month (sometimes twice) I go to the discount place to get the bulk of my groceries. When I need milk or other things that you can't get a month in advance I'll go to the mom-and-pop place.

Yesterday was my monthly trip. I thought while I was in town I would get my oil changed. After all, it was well overdue. I've never gotten my oil changed at the discount store before, but I figured, hey, I would be spending at least an hour gathering groceries. It was just so darn convenient. So, I pulled up beside the building. There were 4 stalls to chose from. I had no idea where to go, so I just picked one.

I got out of my car, and a man who looked like he was born in the stone age came out. He was a low talker. I could hardly understand a word he said, which was probably good, because due to the words I did understand I wanted to kick him in the nuts (hence, why I'm talking back the I'm not moody while pregnant that I stated earlier).

He mumbled "What do you want".
I said "an oil change, please"
He mumbled sarcastically, "And you parked in front of the tire stall?"

I wanted to say "How the hell was I supposed to know, ASSHOLE?"
But I didn't. I refrained. I counted to ten. I realized that I would never say that in my normal non-pregnant state. So, instead, I said "I'm sure that's happened before. This is my first time here" in a sarcastic voice. Lame, but that's all I could come up with while counting to ten.

He ignored my comment and asked what kind of car I had. I replied "A Honda CRV".

He went around back and looked at what I assume was the licence plate. Then he said "What kind of vehicle did you say this was?". I am 99% sure he was saying that to be an ass, because RIGHT IN FRONT of him in very large letters on the back of the car it said "Honda CRV". So, I went back, pointed and said "A Honda CRV".

He then mumbled "I'm sure you don't know how many miles are on it".

OK, does he just ASSUME I'm stupid? He went to open the door to look and I said "50,500 miles". Jerk.

THEN, he says "Which service do you want?". I asked what services they offered. He said "Oil changes". By then I was ticked. TICKED. I mean, I know they offer a just the basics oil change and a fancy check everything oil change but I didn't know what the fancy check everything oil change was called, and, heaven forbid I call it the WRONG thing and he be a jerk about it. So, I said "Well, don't you offer one that you check tire pressure and fluid levels?" He typed something in the computer, handed me a ticket, and walked away.

I yelled after him "And can you tell me when to expect it?". He mumbled something. I didn't have the energy to ask what he said.

Sigh. Just when I was in a happy bliss of sunshine and singing birdies, I had to run into this jerk.

I can't wait until I'm old.

Actually, I can. But I do love old people. Perhaps because I never had grandparents growing up. My mom was a foster child and my dad's parents were deceased before or shortly after I was born. So, I always felt a little jipped on the grandparent issue. When I was in high school I adopted a grandmother through a service. The adopted grandmother was named "Mary" (aren't all old ladies named "Mary"?). Mary lived in a nursing home. She was in her 80's, in a wheelchair, and had a stroke so her left side was non-functional. Because of her stroke she had a hard time speaking. Her sentances were usually less than three words, and were very labored.

Mary's only family was a niece who lived across the country. The niece came to see her maybe once every three months, and for some reason didn't like us visiting. I think Mary may have had money or something. It was a nice nursing home, after all. And maybe the niece thought we were after it? Just a guess. When the niece was there she always asked us to leave and made a comment about how her FAMILY was there or something along those lines. And Mary would get upset, but we would just come back when the niece wasn't there. She wasn't there that often.

Anyway, when Bryan and I started dating he went with me to see Mary. When we got engaged Mary was so excited! She tried to tell everyone that walked by us in the nursing home about the engagement, but just ended up making squealing noises, so she would take my hand with the ring and shove it in the air. She was so cute.

There were others in the nursing home that we got to know a little bit while we were there. One lady, who I assume had alzheimers, would light up when we walked in the room. She would see Bryan and exclaim "LIVINGSTON!". Or sometimes she would see me and yell "BEVERLY!". Bryan, who later worked as a social worker at a nursing home, would come over to her and say "hello", and it would just delight her that "Livingston" came for a visit. For the longest time when I was kidding around with Bryan we would call eachother "Beverly" and "Livingston". I assume they were relatives of hers.

Now that I'm pregnant I seem to be very popular with the older generation. I walk in the room and they flock to touch the belly. Yesterday a tiny white haired lady came over and asked the typical questions, and then asked "Do you feel her move?" I said "Oh, yes, a lot". She looked at Bryan, looked at me, then whispered in a I'm-hard-of-hearing-so-I'm-not-wispering-but-I-think-I-am voice "well, she's going to have huge feet, so she's going to kick the HELL out of you". ROFL.

I love old people.

A Meme

True Jersey Girl sent me a Meme (Hey, how did that term come up, anyway? The first time I saw someone reference a "meme" I had no idea what they were talking about. If someone would like to enlighten me....)

Her answers were great. I hope I can live up! Here goes:

What follows is a list of different occupations. You must select at least five of them. You may add more if you like to your list before you pass it on (after you select five of the items as it was passed to you).

Of the five you selected, you are to finish each phrase with what you would do as a member of that profession. Then pass it on to three other bloggers.

Here's that list:

If I could be a scientist... If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician... If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter... If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary... If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect... If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist... If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete... If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper... If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer... If I could be a backup dancer...
If I could be a llama-rider... If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a midget stripper... If I could be a proctologist...
If I could be a TV-Chat Show host... If I could be an actor...
If I could be a judge... If I could be a Jedi...
If I could be a mob boss... If I could be a backup singer …
If I could be a CEO... If I could be a movie reviewer …

If I could be a movie reviewer...then the movie industry would probably go south because I'm pretty picky!

If I could be a backup dancer...it would be in the act of Abbott and Costello. If you could see me dance you would fully understand why.

If I could be a proctologist...I would try to keep the jokes at a minimum.

If I could be a Jedi...my husband would probably want to marry me all over again. He's such a star-wars geek.

If I could be a painter...I would definitely go broke.

Three other bloggers....Angie ('cuz she's my very good friend and therefore obligated to do these things), Adrienne (same reason), Elle (Because I like her and she is a great writer. I bet she would be very good at this.)

The way to be

I hear people talking about their mental state during pregnancy and they usually mention being extremely moody. I do find my once rock existance easily shaken when I see a lost puppy or a sad movie, as I've mentioned in the past. However, overall I find my pregnancy state as one of extreme happiness. I wake up ready to face the world (well, as long as it isn't TOO early). I admire the birds, nature, people. I reflect more. Of course, this probably has a lot to do with me quitting my very stressful career, too.

I thought to myself the other day that I really should try to be this way no matter what my state is. When I had that stressful career perhaps I should have let things roll off my back a little more, perhaps relaxed a bit. Of course, the career may not have been quite as successful, but life would have been more pleasant.

Anyway, one of my reflection times was while driving in downtown Houston. A young guy, my guess late 20's, was driving a little red beat-up pickup truck. He was driving down the very busy highway between the downtown buildings, and he was really enjoying his music. Or what I assume was music. He was dancing while driving, flailing his arms, bouncing in his seat, singing. He was definitely happy. He didn't care if people saw him singing in the car, making a fool of himself while dancing. He liked his music and he was going to enjoy it.

I thought, THAT is the way to be.

Of course, in the back of my mind I have a difficulty completely burying the negative. I worry about money, about raising this baby right, about post-partem depression. Come to think of it, maybe the guy in the car wasn't singing. Maybe he was on the cell phone having a screaming fight with his girlfriend.

OK, I have a little ways to go before I'm completely in the carefree, positive mode. But I'm trying. And I've come a long way.

He Never Ceases to Amaze Me.

“Martha” went to our church. I should actually say “was a member” because in the two years I’ve been here I’ve never actually seen her step foot in it. You see, Martha was 71 and grumpy. She never had a kind word, never said “please”. She was estranged from her children and everyone in her family except one sister who lived across the country. I think when Martha was a little girl her mother forgot to mention that if you hold your mouth a certain way for too long then it sticks in that position. Martha had a permanent frown on her face. Nobody liked her. She didn’t like anybody. She kept to herself unless she needed something.

Martha said she didn’t go to church because she was too ill. But yet you could find her driving and going to the grocery store 30 miles away. She was often seen at the local restaurant, eating by herself. Oh, she could get out. Everyone knew she didn’t go to church because she got into an argument with a previous pastor over what version of the bible should be used to teach a bible study. She noted that he was using a version she didn’t like, and told him so. And he disagreed. And she never came back.

That didn’t stop Martha from calling the church for favors. When her sister visited and needed a ride from the airport, she called the church and I answered the phone. She said in a gruff voice “This is Martha. I need to know who will pick up my sister Sunday morning at the airport.” All I could think was “The GALL of that woman! The least she could have done is ASK if there would be any way we could do it. Or say ‘please’ at the very least! And doesn’t she know church is Sunday morning?” I told her I would give the message to my husband. After all, he is the pastor. HE could tell her we’re not her taxi service.

Much to my surprise when he got home and I passed him the message he called Martha back and said he would be conducting services at that time but he would try to find someone who would be available. I asked him “Why are you doing that? She is so mean. We’re not her taxi service”. He just shrugged and said nothing.

Martha fell and broke her hip. She was in the rehab hospital for three weeks. She called the church one week before her release and DEMANDED we build her a wheelchair ramp. For free (she was on a very limited income). She demanded this be done within a week, so she would have it when she got home. I answered the phone on that one, too. I explained that my husband was in class all day and wouldn’t be home until late. Could he call her the next day to discuss this? Martha replied “NO. I need an answer NOW”. I said I was sorry but he could not be reached. She said “OK” and hung up on me. Then she called about 5 other people in the church. Who called me asking what to do. And I explained that I told her it would have to wait until the next day. And they rolled their eyes and said “That’s Martha”.

When Bryan got home that night he called her. He told her he wasn’t sure what could be done in the short timeframe, but he understood her need and would see what he could do. In one week he managed to stress over getting construction volunteers together and donations of supplies from various hardware stores. I asked him repeatedly “Why are you stressing out over it? Her expectations are absolutely atrocious!” He shrugged and said “it would be nice if it was there when she got home”. They didn’t quite make the deadline, but had it in the day after she got home.

Over the last two years Bryan has done many things for Martha. I never understood it. She was mean to him, rude to me and everyone else. Demanding. She insisted he bring her home communion when we had communion on the first Sunday of the month. He did, which irritated me because she COULD come to church to get it if she wanted, and she was the only one he brought it to so it was an inconvenience.

This last Monday Martha called again and I answered the phone again. The conversation went much like many of our others. I said “Hello” and she said “This is Martha. I want to know who will come pick me up from the hospital”. I said “Martha, Bryan is in teaching bible study right now and will be done in about 10 minutes. Can I have him call you?” She said “NO. I need to talk to him RIGHT NOW.” I suggested she call the church because that is where he was.

About 10 minutes later Bryan comes over to the house and tells me he is leaving to go get Martha. She apparently scraped her leg and needed stitches. Nothing serious, only four stitches. An ambulance took her to the hospital, but she needed a ride home. Again, I said “What is with her? She couldn’t ASK NICELY? And doesn’t she realize it’s 45 miles away. And we are using OUR gas and OUR car to do this? The least she could do is be NICE when asking for favors”. He smiled, chuckled, and said “Yea, she is pretty demanding, isn’t she?” I rolled my eyes. Off he went to get her.

Tuesday we went to Houston to deal with more house stuff. We got home yesterday (Wednesday) and there was a message from someone at the church on our machine. Martha had died suddenly in her house. Alone. She had called a woman whom she knew and said she wasn’t feeling well. The woman went to check on her and she was dead.

Bryan got the message and said “Oh, my God!” I mean, after all, he just saw her Monday and she was fine. He went on for a few minutes, doing other things. Then he sat in his chair and looked like he was reflecting. Finally he said to me “It’s amazing how God works. Just Monday when I picked Martha up we had a good talk. She actually thanked me for being nice to her. She said she wanted to come to church on Sunday to hear me preach”.

You see, Bryan is about 2 million steps ahead of me in his Christian walk. He saw an old woman who needed help. Who was difficult, but was a person with needs just like everyone else. Through his kindness he was ministering to her. Not in a lecture sort of way, but by example. How Christians SHOULD minister. And here I was “tisk, tisking” her because of her grumpiness and rudeness. I should know that the Golden rule doesn’t say “Do unto others…if they are nice”.

He is an amazing man. This is why HE is the minister and I am not. I am blessed that my daughter will have him as an example.