Halloween is certainly a scary time of year

Some folks in my office have decorated their cubes for Halloween. No problem there. It's cute and fun, and they also tend to put out free candy.

The prize winner though goes to the woman down the hall who brought in an enormous box on Monday. I was following her in and was naturally curious about what was in the box. I assumed it was a lamp since our floor is rather dimly lit.

It turned out to certainly be a light source. I couldn't find an exact duplicate on the web, but this was rather close. Just add another tier to it. With more of the same lighting and you can pretty much picture what's sitting on top of her cabinet.

I get to walk by it every day.

Oh so pretty.

And by the way...

The dog sucks at squishing spiders. I've got two giant Wolf Spiders waiting for you to smush when you get home.

The one in the kitchen, the dog just chases back under the fridge. And the one in the basement he just picks up and spits it out.

So we've got one scared and one slobbery. But neither has been squished.

Please hurry home. I need you.

Huptcha huptcha, quick like a bunny!

Andy's been in India for a little over a week now. A little less than a week to go and he'll be home again.

I never do very well when he's away, and this time in particular has been dragging sooooo slowly.

To add to the fun, the dog doesn't do well when he's away either. Arrow either sulks by the front door until I drag him up to the bedroom, or he becomes devious. Lately, he's chosen devious. I think I prefer sulking.

Sweetie, here's a short list of the things the dog has done while you've been gone:

1. Gotten into the bathroom trash
2. Run around the house like a maniac with one of my shoes
3. Chewed the DVD case of one of the Firefly discs (thankfully the dvd was in the player at the time)
4. Gotten into the kitchen trash
5. Taken over your half of the bed and GROWLS at me if I try and budge him
6. Picked up a dead spider off the floor in the basement, brought it upstairs and put it on top of Laura's purse
7. Gotten into the kitchen trash. Did I say that one already? Yeah, well he's done it repeatedly.
8. Stole and shredded a piece of junk mail from the kitchen table. Just really happy it wasn't a check.
9. Barked at me non-stop for 20 minutes and NOTHING would appease him.
10. And the winner, because it just happened this morning....chewed on the DVD remote. It's just a little dented, it's still good, it's still good.

PLEASE hurry home. We all miss you.

They weren't joking

So when I first started feeling the baby move everything I read said it would feel like gas bubbles. And when I read these things I thought to myself "Gas bubbles? Are they serious? What exactly does a gas bubble have to do with a baby moving?"

So the first time I felt it move and couldn't decide whether or not that was the baby or the pizza I had for lunch I understood.

With that in mind you'd think I would have believed them when they said soon instead of gas bubbles it will feel like karate kicks. But no. I thought to myself "Karate kicks? Are they serious?"

So last night when the baby did something that seriously felt like it was using my stomach to pole vault itself around I was surprised. And when this activity continued on through the night, enough that I kept waking up and going "OW! Quit it!" I was surprised.

All I can say is, "Sweetie, this is definitely YOUR kid. It doesn't seem to really wake up until about 10 PM. It pulls all-nighters. It sleeps in late. It brings new meaning to our old friends' teasing of being on Porter-Standard-Time."

Hmmm

How can it be considered a "delicate condition" when I feel like a moose?

I'm very predictable

I went to my grandmother's for dinner last night. Talking to her beforehand she mentioned she would be cooking chicken for dinner and would be having green beans and corn and stuffing on the side. I casually asked if she could do me a favor and before I could even get the question out she said, "I know. You want me to wait and not make the stuffing. You want to make the StoveTop when you get here."

I guess I've made this request a few times before.

One more for the list

Suddenly everyone feels very comfortable talking about my boobs.

I don't include myself in "everyone."

Ohhh for a nice, tall, cold one

Many things about pregnancy so far I've enjoyed. Some I haven't been thrilled about, but for the most part I've been very happy with the whole experience.

I haven't really been all that sick, although there were a FEW days.

I haven't gained a ton of weight, only 10 pounds so far at month 5, not too shabby huh?

I haven't had any bizarre cravings, although there are several foods that I simply cannot look at.

But the thing that I've really missed is having a drink.

Let me make it very clear, I'm not a drinker. In fact pre-pregnancy, I would have A beer about once every six months. Actually thinking about it, probably every 8 months. That's all. Not an every day thing. Heck! Not every an every week/month thing. Just the occasional indulgence.

Since I've been pregnant though, and the thought that I simply CANNOT have a drink has driven me up a wall.

Although to be perfectly honest I don't think it's about the taste, or the relaxing, or the sheer indulgence of it. I think it's due to the following:

1. Random strangers seem to feel completely justified in patting my belly.

2. Woman Type-A who has kids, has told me the exact same thing "Oh just you wait. EVERYTHING changes." But that's as far as they're willing to speak on the subject. Apparently this is some sort of secret society and I'll get a pamphlet as I'm leaving the hospital on how to master this skill.

3. Woman Type-B who has kids, has filled me in on the excruiating details of her labor. How long, how awful the contractions were, how long she was pushing, how she begged for the epidural, how they gave her the epidural but punctured a sac in her spine and she was bed-ridden for a week afterward, how the saddle block didn't work and she felt every inch of the c-section, how many stitches she had and the exact placement of each and every one...Shall I go on? Because I've heard every one of these stories and believe me these women DO go on and on and on and on....

4. And my personal favorite, suddenly everyone's a comedian. I'm now the butt of jokes about going to the bathroom, moodiness, beach balls, random cravings, and of course I'm now the apparent owner of a "baby brain."

Please tell me again why aren't allowed to have that drink!!??