Wednesday

Since it's been a few days, I figured I should at least let anybody who cares know that I'm still alive, just preoccupied this week. My SIL is visiting from WA, spoiling the cats, and in general, being good company in my boredom.

Oh, and also in case you're wondering, she heard "scurrying" in the ceiling in her room. So our mice 'friends' are migrating. Grr.....

In the meantime, check out some of the blogs over there in the column on the right. They're bound to be more amusing than mine this week.

They're Still Here.

Yes, THEY. I read this horrible note about mice this morning that said that mice are usually born in litters of five or six and can start reproducing at the ripe old age of SIX WEEKS!! So now I'm freaking out just a bit because I'm quite sure I heard at least three of them last night -practicing Greco-Roman wrestling this time - but not once did they make it down to the kitchen, to the anxiously awaiting trap by the cat food bowl. Which is leading us to wonder if they ever were really coming down to the kitchen. Maybe they're just getting into a cupboard and we haven't discovered the hole in the BACK of the giant pretzel bag...no, I'm not stopping to check.

At the risk of this becoming a blog completely about the horror-show that has become living in our house, I shall relate an anecdote that occurred last night. It would've been funny if it happened to anybody but us. Alas.

When we first moved into this house, we only had one key. Subsequent attempts to have extra copies made proved futile when at least five keys later, we still didn't have one that worked. Wife kept pressing Husband to get a completely new doorknob and lock system. Husband kept insisting that we would wait until spring. (So, isn't it ironic that yesterday was the first day of Spring?) Last night, we left the house for our class. I was getting in the car, Husband had just closed the door and then I saw it, the look of horror as it dawned on him: My KEYS!!!!

Believe it. It's true. He locked the only house key we have IN THE HOUSE. It was the first time I actually used his middle name. In the middle of our driveway. Potentially in front of our neighbours. So I fumed the entire way to class. Lucky for him, after we got home and after he had already spent 15 minutes out in the cold trying all the main floor windows, I remembered I had a Mystery Key on my keychain. Could this be one of the useless keys we had made? I wonder that I never took it off the keychain. So he tried and tried for at least 10 minutes and in His mercy, God allowed the key to work. Lucky us. Particularly Lucky Husband.

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Moving on to the Childbirth Ed. Class because I know that's why you're all reading today. Last night was infinitely better than last week. We have a different instructor for the next three weeks. She was great. She handed out the notes at the beginning of class (handy for me because I could actually scribble my own thoughts on the page - and cross out the part about bringing a video camera to the birth - ugh!). We went through the notes. Then we went up to the OB floor and had a tour of the birthing center and all its wonders. Then met a woman who had just given birth on Monday night. Then back downstairs to the classroom where we debated about practicing breathing because there were people there last night who failed to show up last week and thus came unprepared to practice. So the instructor talked about who should be allowed in the delivery room and when we should call people (lucky us, it doesn't matter who we call, they won't be rushing down to the hospital. Says who? 3000 miles, that's who). Then we were finished. Oh and the best part? We're skipping the video next week so we can have more time to practice breathing. Yes, that's right, SKIPPING the video. Not 'postponing' but skipping. Hooray!

In addition to the decidedly more bearable nature of last night's class, I made an amazing discovery. "Mrs. Perry" and I got chatting in the bathroom. And do you want to know how much God rocks?? Do you?? I know you do because SHE'S CANADIAN!!!!! "Mrs. Perry" is Canadian! In fact, from right across the border. Married for six years in December, due the week after we are, AND from the same town we live in!!! Could I ask for more? It's highly doubtful. She's teaching full-time right now, but after the baby comes, she's finished with working. Oh I SO hope there is some friend-potential here. I hope she likes to walk. She's rather on the prim and proper side, but she seems to like to laugh, she's really quite nice, and they look like the types that just might fancy a night of games! So rejoice with us, pray with us that we might've finally found some friends!

Okay, Who's the Snitch?

Well we've been putting out the traps for three days now and still nothing. So I can only assume some smart-alec gave the mouse the heads-up and he's on to us. On Sunday night the noise was horrible! I still can't decide if he was practicing hurdles or performing Riverdance without the music. Evil cretin! I just want some sleep for crying out loud! Then on Monday night, the crack must've been wearing off because except for a few actual scurryings after 1am, we didn't hear him at all. Last night, we heard him run back and forth a few times but never once did he venture into the kitchen. I'm relatively certain at this point that he's set up surveillance on the cat food bowl. And he's obviously had experience with these mouse traps before. Argh! (When James talked about perseverance, do you think he was also referring to catching mice? Is this developing character??)

In other news, well, okay, it isn't really news - sometimes I'm just not that bright and it irritates me. I'm not sure if it's the extra hormones that are making my brain function below is normal capacity or if I really am this dimwitted sometimes. The second installment of our Childbirth Ed. Class is tonight so I decided to take a shower and wash my hair today before I started painting. After I finished painting, I was cleaning up and changing back into clothes that actually fit and I looked at my hair and gasped.

"*Gasp* Oh my hair....!" There was a nice patch of yellow right on the very top! So instead of washing my hair and putting on a bandanna, which would've been the smart thing to do, I just pulled it back and somehow, SOMEHOW, I managed to get a nice, very noticeable dusting of yellow paint right on the top of my head! Then, in my continuing display of retarded brain function, I grabbed a WHITE washcloth to wash it out. WHITE!

This is particularly embarrassing since I took that IQ test on CBC on Sunday night and actually scored 126 which I was quite excited about. (I think Husband didn't know he'd married somebody quite so smart. Does this mean he has to listen to me more now?) But I probably don't need to tell you that it was the logic category in which I scored the lowest.

Anyway, as mentioned above, tonight is Childbirth Education Part 2. I am not excited. Tonight we actually have to bring a pillow and lay on the floor to practice our breathing. (This is helpful in the long run. This is helpful in the long run....) So meet me back here tomorrow for my in-depth analysis - because I know you're all interested.

Bump In the Night, Part Two

Pardon the fact that this picture is a little blurry. We put out two of those little traps last night. Note the fake cheese which Husband later smeared with peanut butter (a waste of good peanut butter if you ask me).

And you're all asking: 'Did you get him? Did you get him? Did you get him?'

NO! Dangit! No! I was falling asleep with my ears peeled for the most remote of mouse-like noises, jumping every time the fridge made the slightest of noises or the pipes murmured and finally couldn't keep my eyes or ears open any longer. We never heard a peep from that stupid mouse all night!

So I have two theories about that:

#1) Saturday night's Mouse-Madness was actually the mouse stockpiling food to shove in his suitcase for an upcoming trip to Mexico, which he left for (in a hurry) sometime while we were at church yesterday morning. Or,

#2) He was gone last night to meet up with his crack dealer and we're in for a doozy of a night tonight.

Either way, I am so CHEESED that we put out traps and everything and didn't get to enjoy the ecstasy of hearing The Snap! *sigh* I suppose we will have to try again tonight. Wish us luck!

Bump In the Night

It's 5am and one of the things you would NOT expect me to be doing at this time of morning is blogging, but Husband is on call and just left and I've already been awake since 3:30 and now I'm sitting here with my wee bowl of dry miniwheats blogging the post I've been writing in my head for the last hour.

This post, however, will be accompanied by yet another disclaimer: Mom, we DO want you to come and visit in July, so DO NOT read this post. If you continue to read, I'm afraid your mind will be made up that we're living in some sort of slum that you will never set foot in. So consider yourself forewarned.

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One of the things Mystery Baby will not lack in his/her early childhood is books. Though we possess no actual bookshelf for the nursery, we do have at least three boxes of children's books just waiting to be devoured by curious little eyes. [At this point, I'd like to note that my brother and I must've (<- spellcheck wants to change that word to Gustave) been raised well because although some of the books are rather beat up, I have yet to come across a single crayon or marker scribble in them.] One of the books that is a favourite of mine (not sure if this was true when I was little, but it's true now) is a book called What Was That? I was going to post a picture of it, but seriously, it's 5 in the morning; work with me here!

Anyway, the book is about - great, now I'm getting my animals mixed up - I think it's about a bear who is being put to bed and he hears all these noises around him. His mother explains that it is just all the other little baby animals getting ready for bed too. It goes on to show several little animals being tucked into their various animal beds by their mothers, as each of the bears' siblings reassure him that it's nothing to be afraid of, just other little animals getting into bed. The pictures I remember in particular are the little spider (I hate spiders, but the ones in the book are at least cute) and the little mouse, complete with matchbox bed. If I'm remembering correctly, the story somehow ends with all of the bear family in one bed and the bed breaking and all the little animals we've seen getting ready for bed look up in alarm at their mothers and say, "What was THAT?" (It's a very cute book, published in the 70s. If you can find it at the library, check it out.)

What's the point of my relating this story? Oh yes, wouldn't you like to know. It started actually a couple months ago. We were sitting in the living room one night and there was this noise in the ceiling which, naturally, being unfamiliar with the nuances and sounds of oil/hot water heat, we attributed to the pipes that heat our house. The cats were very curious, but seemed satisfied with our pipe explanation (yes, of course they understood what we were saying). Well at present, because we're just finishing painting upstairs where our permanent bedroom will be and because we just started painting on the main floor in the room where we have been sleeping, we are now on the futon mattress on the living room floor.

Three nights ago, I was awakened by the sound of scurrying, no rampaging, little feet in the ceiling. Oh. Great. We have a mouse. No big deal, I thought, as long as it's in the ceiling and not on the floor, I'm okay. It did keep me awake for at least two hours though. Then again tonight. More rampaging. I don't know where it got it, but I swear this mouse is on meth. (I know Jerry, of Tom & Jerry fame, often scurried, but he often crept too and why this mouse can't creep, I have no idea.) This time, however, 'our' 'little' mouse 'friend' made his/her way down the wall to the kitchen. We must've moved something since last time it came down because I'm quite sure I heard it collide with the recycling bin. (Now, we have a MOUSE. And it is a BIG DEAL.) Then it raced back into its hole and up the wall and across the ceiling. And back and forth.

Andbackandforthandbackandforthandbackandforthandbackandforthandbackandforth AND SO ON.

All this since about 2am this morning. Calculate with me, that's THREE hours ago! So I woke up. Then I woke Husband up so he could hear the noise and be assured that I'm not crazy, we really do have an unwanted house guest, but he naturally, after agreeing that 'yes, we have a mouse,' went back to sleep quite soundly. I on the other hand, laid here tossing and turning and fuming because that stupid mouse would not quit moving! ARGH!!! So I had a few bathroom trips, I blew my nose as loudly as I could, I coughed a few times, and I finally turned the fridge water dispenser light on, all in an effort to scare the mouse away, because by this time, I'm wide awake and Mystery Baby is awake and redoubling its rib-kicking practices for what I can only assume is an upcoming dance extravaganza (or judo lessons), and now? Now I'm hungry to boot! I can't rightly put into words how much I hate getting up to eat in the middle of the night.

Fine, so I scared it enough that it didn't come down into the kitchen anymore, but that didn't prevent it from continuing it's antics in the ceiling. I have to conclude that this is a mouse that has obviously been here for a while. Anything that can run around in a ceiling that fast without running into something must know its way around. Then again, about 45 minutes ago, I heard what sounded like a mouse colliding with pipe. So either it finally woke up ANOTHER mouse that whacked it with a pipe to slow it down for a while or it just blinked for a nanosecond and ran into it on its own. What I'm secretly hoping happened is that it ran into the pipe and cracked its little skull wide open and its now laying in a bloody heap somewhere up in the ceiling. Unless that would mean that we'd be smelling rotting mouse in a few days, in which case, I'll revise my hope to either of the first two possibilities.

I know I shouldn't be afraid of a little mouse since in reality it's probably as big as my thumb (I said "in reality"), but it sounds as big as a pack rat! Sleeping beside a Husband who sleeps as soundly as mine does isn't quite as comforting as it could be either. I sleep with my back to his so I feel like we're both on the offensive, ready to ward off any mousely danger in the night. But any sudden movement has me jumpy and terrified that I'll roll over and wake up staring into a pair of beady little black mouse eyes. *Shudder*

At any rate, I'm guessing the mouse is stealing food from the cat bowl in the kitchen. At one point in my semi-conscious musings, I'd devised a plan to rig the bowl with a little bell to be sure, but I think just setting up the mouse traps Husband brought home the other day will be sufficient. The traps are hilarious. They come with fake cheese. You just pop up the little piece of fake Swiss and that's supposed to drive the mouse wild. I guess that means our mouse has fine night vision but a truly pathetic sense of smell. Husband said we'll add peanut butter just to be on the safe side.

- 'You mean, in case the trap doesn't work, it'll stick to the peanut butter?'
- 'No. Mice are supposed to be mad for peanut butter.'
- 'Oh. I hope they like organic.'
(Do you sometimes amaze yourself at the depth of conversation you can have with someone at 4 in the morning, even though you know that someone won't ever remember saying those words when they wake up?)

What I can't understand is that we have one of those plug-in rodent getter ridder things. You know, the device that emits a high-pitched noise that's supposed to keep mice, etc., at bay? I wonder why it quit working? And won't it be funny when someday, somebody goes to redo the living room ceiling and finds a hoard of cat food up there?

Anyway, Husband will set the traps tonight. The traps have two settings, Sensitive and Firm. Screw firm! I want one tiny claw to set that thing off. Oh I can hardly wait for that glorious snap! Will I feel bad? Maybe for a second. Then hopefully I'll fall right back to sleep. As for now? I think I'll go work on that online Sudoku I saved before bed and wait for Husband to get home. Church attendance isn't looking promising this morning.

Am I Glowing, or Just Embarassed?

* Disclaimer: This post may not be suitable for all ages. Read on at your own discretion. (Yes, Mom, if you're having lunch, put it down or come back later, because I'm really going to write 'those' words and say 'those' things on my blog - because it's my blog. So there.)

As I mentioned yesterday, last night was our first Childbirth Education class. As usual, we were the last people there - unless you count the two couples that never showed up. They were REALLY late!
We got to sit all Montessori-style which was fine except the half circle was too big and it didn't feel very intimate at all. We went around with introductions so fast that we didn't catch any names and for some bizarre reason, some people didn't even bother introducing themselves.

There are eight couples altogether, including two others from our town. One couple we actually saw in December down in Bangor at the maternity store. (She looked uncomfortable at all the same spots as I did and laughed at all the appropriate times, so maybe there's some friend-potential there.) The other couple from here reminds us of a professor we had in college. They seemed really friendly (not that we actually talked to anybody) and since, again, we didn't actually catch any names, we now affectionately refer to them as The Perrys. (You're laughing now, aren't you EK?) I should point out that the only time I actually talked to anybody was during the three minutes I was standing in line in the bathroom during our five minute break and all we talked about then was whether or not all the stalls were truly full.

Of the eight, we're at the end of the line as far as due dates go (only two of us are due in June, everybody else is in May and three have the same due date!). We're also one of only two couples who don't know the sex, only we don't know because Mystery Baby (ahem...seriously Child!) isn't cooperating; the other couple doesn't want to know.

So there's the preamble. We started the class with the teacher introducing herself (I couldn't really hear her name either but it might be Patty). Her voice sounds just like our old Postmaster and next-door neighbour, Toni [Can I just put in a plug for Toni here? She's the greatest Postmaster ever and she and Ron were truly two of the best neighbours ever! They should visit here and hold 'How to Be a Good Neighbour' seminars]. After we had gone around mumbling our introductions, she started right in talking about symptoms and what we'd all been feeling. The list ended up being pretty short, as I would expect it to be when nobody knows anybody else and who's going to admit to having an unbearable problem with flatulence, constipation, and lack of ability to pee on the first date?

Then she talked about pre-term labour and associated symptoms as well as when to call the doctor or come to the hospital. After that, we went right into The Breathing. I can't even write about it without laughing, as I couldn't keep a straight face when we were supposed to be practicing last night either. We learned four different methods (though I wish we would've gotten the handouts before the end of class so I could take notes) and I don't really remember any of them today. I do remember the Cleansing Breath part though - but I was laughing to much for everything in between. (I suppose I'll have to work on this focus thing before June, no?) Then we started in on the "Hee Hee Whoooo" breathing, the Dr. Seuss breathing, if you will. Aside from not being able to see the point of this type of breathing whatsoever, I'm not even sure I could keep a straight face using the HHW method - even if I was really in labour! On the bright side, hardly anybody could keep a straight face through this breathing practice - except for this one couple who looked more tightly wound (and significantly less fun) than a jack-in-the-box. Their expressions were like STONE.

And I should've been thankful for the retardedness of the breathing exercises, because it only got worse. After we all recovered from the breathing, it was time for The Video - Hello, Baby!

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD AND PRIVATE! I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THAT!

Aside from finding it very unhelpful at this point (I've learned much more from hearing the stories of friends, who are not also showing me pictures), I was also mildly offended and it brought back horrible memories of Grade 10 Biology and The Miracle of Life only multiply that by three. I realize it's all 'real' and these are the 'facts of life,' but really, I consider myself well-read enough to know - without seeing - how and where exactly the baby comes out.

Sidebar: As some of you may know, I have a terrible aversion to bodily fluids. I'm not as much of a neat freak as you would imagine, but if I can avoid touching any bodily fluids (barring unintentional contact with my own), I will. It just grosses me out! SO MUCH! And of course, this video was FILLED with them. ACK! You're all laughing at this point thinking about the idea of ME + My Aversion + Mystery Baby and how it can only = Complete Disaster. However, I have faith that God is merciful. Not merciful in the sense that Mystery Baby will never pee on me (one of my friend's kids already did that so I'm almost over that hurdle) or drench me with projectile vomit (*shudder*), but merciful in the sense that there's some hidden part of me that will allow me to deal with Mystery Baby's grossness; a part of me that may remain hidden until sometime around the end of June.

Moving on, what sort of woman allows herself to be filmed in the most vulnerable moment of her life? It was the 80s. I'm sure they weren't in it for the money. If they could interview those moms now, I wonder if any of the three of them would regret having 'shown' their private parts to millions of women (and MEN)? Or would they only regret those horribly heinous 80s haircuts? And what about their children? Let's just say that Hello, Baby was filmed in 1985 (I tried to find out the date but without looking very hard couldn't find anything). That would make those kids about to turn 23 this year. So those kids could potentially be in the parent-to-be boat themselves. And what are they to think when they get to their Childbirth Ed class and the instructor pops in Hello, Baby. I hardly doubt a single one of them would proudly announce: "Hey, that's me! Being born! In all my bloody, bodily fluid-filled glory! And that? That's my Mom's vagina! AND her down-there hair! Aren't I lucky that my birth was immortalized for generations to come?" Is it really any wonder there isn't a NEW version of this video?

While some of the class actually did appear riveted by the video, there were a few of us who finally, and conveniently, found our ability to focus - on the window, the blinds, the spot on the wall, or those weird chairs in the next room - anything but the actual birth of those babies. Yick! On top of all that, where was the screaming, the swearing? I didn't hear any of that! It was edited to look far to easy - especially that first lady with the super-horrid feathered haircut, and her creepy husband Jim, whose narration was so monotone, he could've been doing commentary at a tiddlywinks competition.

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My Afterthought: Sometimes I feel like maybe I'm not taking this whole pregnancy seriously enough; it's a possibility. It isn't that i don't see this process as a miracle - though it's taken me at least six months to get to that point - but humour is my coping mechanism, and if I'm not allowed to laugh at ridiculous breathing techniques, or be horrified by gross and cheesy 80s birthing videos, I think I shall greatly hinder my ability to get through this. So laugh with me...and be thankful YOU didn't have to participate in the production of Hello, Baby.

On A Rainy Wednesday

Per the title, it's raining out today; and I mean RAINING. The temperature has been above zero (always in Celsius, people, always in Celsius) since Sunday so our hoard of snow has gone down considerably. No complaints here. Only, my pessimistic side says, 'no way can this last.' So I checked the forecast and sure enough, snow is predicted by the end of next week.

'In like a lion, out like a lamb' blah blah blah. My wise friend Erin says it better: "March is mean."

so I'm trying out a new recipe today. Low fat tropical muffins. The only sugar they have comes from the coconut in the recipe, and I suppose the naturally-occurring sugar in the pineapple. But as they're finishing up baking, they smell low fat. I'll let you know how they turn out. I should be happy about the no sugar part because I'm sure I'm getting a cavity. It would be my second in almost 28 years. Just breathing in with my mouth open is hurting my poor tooth - I can't actually figure out which one - but one of those upper non-molar types.

Tonight we have our first Childbirth Education class. I'm a little nervous. It always catches me a little off guard when I sit in the clinic office surrounded by other pregnant women. Suddenly I'm not alone, which is good; but suddenly...I'm not alone. What do you mean I'm not the only pregnant woman on the planet? What do you mean it's not all about me?

I'm really hoping that we'll meet some new people and maybe - *gasp* - even make some friends as a result of these classes, but the idea of having to hang out with another hormonal pregnant woman...just knowing how bad I've been....makes me cringe just a little. At any rate, I'm sure I'll come home with lots to blog about.

For those of you stuck at home tonight, CBC is airing Stand Up in Kandahar at 8 EST. Five Canadian comics entertain troops in Kandahar, just in case you couldn't figure that out from the title. We're bummed that we're going to miss it especially since we saw clips on the news last night and it actually looked funny. Then again, it is the CBC so there's a 90% chance we'll have opportunity to see the show again by the end of the week.

Muffin Update: I don't think it's just my sweet tooth talking; these muffins NEED sugar. They LOOK nice but yikes! We'll see what Husband says when he gets home.

A Conversation...

...that took place Saturday night.

Me: Wow, we've been painting all day. I wish we'd gotten a movie for tonight; I'm kind of bored.

Husband: Well, Unlucky Joe is playing again tonight.

Me: *Silence*

*Sigh* My husband, the Comedian.

Friday Night in Dullsville

Oh, whoops. Did I erase the entire post? And the comments too?
Hm, I guess I did. Too bad.

*Sigh*...and then there was one...

It all happened so fast. I don't think I'll ever really understand the science of it....

We have (nope, make that HAD) these two really great Corpell's Water mugs. A couple years ago when we were Home for Christmas, everybody got Corpell's mugs from my Uncle because he works there. Well, actually, Husband and I didn't start out with any, but whiny pleadings of 'hey, where are our mugs?' netted us these two fabulous mugs. The perfect size for any hot beverage.

So this afternoon, I was making myself a cup of Neo Citran (thank goodness for Canadian cold remedies) to assuage some of the symptoms of this nasty cold I picked up courtesy of my holiday in MB. I added the drink mix right when the mug came out of the microwave which resulted in a volcano-esque explosion of mix and boiling water. So I grabbed the other mug and poured the first mug's contents into the second. Then I ran water into the first mug to try to salvage some of the undissolved powder and pour it into the 'new' mug. Alas, the water I used was too cold and as you can see from Photo Evidence A and B, the mug is now destroyed.

Ah, cruel world!

And my dear Corpell's mug (or was it Husband's Corpell's mug?), how I shall miss you....

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So I'm in my 25th week of this here pregnancy and we still have no idea what gender this Mystery Baby will be. Thus I've been thinking a lot about names lately. If it turns out to be a boy, the name is pretty much decided on already (at least if you ask me). On the other hand, if it's a girl, I'm close to concluding it may never have a name. Well, at least maybe not the day it gets here. If we do pick any of the names currently in the running, I'm not sure she would ever forgive us for giving her a name nobody can spell; a name she might not even be able to spell until she's got a couple of years of school under her belt. On the other hand, as I quickly learned after Husband and I got married, she'll spend all of her unmarried life having to spell her last name for people anyway (yes, that's a 'Y' not an 'I') so what's one more un-spellable name?

I'm a fan of the name Ava, but there's already an Ava in the family - even if she is a third cousin who lives on the other side of the country and whom I've met all of once. I also really like the name Avery. But what if the girl turned out to be really short? How much would kids make fun of a short kid whose name means 'Elf Ruler' (I know I would)?? Rory is another cool name, but the likelihood of any child of ours being born with red hair is slim. Then there are traditional names like Sarah and Megan that I like (and incidentally when I was young, I was friends with two sisters named Sarah and Meghan), but Sarah just seems too plain (and in our case, not tall) and Megan has too many spelling/pronunciation variations to sift through - as in the case of the aforementioned friend Meghan whose name I had constant problems spelling and I'm still not sure I've got it right.

A couple of months ago, some friends of ours had us over for dinner one night and we played a rousing game of Scattergories after dessert. When the game was over, Wendy decided to invent a new game called 'Name Bren & Husband's Baby,' using the letter die from the game. Suffice to say, with suggestions like Enrique and Pedro, we will not be going back to those friends for real suggestions. So here's your chance. Unlike my Dream Interpretation Contest (which is going on official hiatus until I have a dream worthy of sharing and because of such decidedly underwhelming response*), this is not a contest and you won't actually win any privilege of naming the Mystery Baby. You will, however, get to offer any and all suggestions - serious or otherwise - for our general amusement.

As a bit of interesting but useless trivia for you, I had asked a friend for name suggestions a couple months ago. She already knew the pick for a boy's name, but it was almost creepy when her two suggestions for girls names were exactly the two at the top of our list. Hm...I wonder if between her teaching, prep, grading, and running schedule, she's also a hacker??

*My cousin is still bugging me that I never posted a winner, so I'll tell you today that I think it will have to officially be a tie since there were only two submissions (seriously, you people....). KB wins on the more serious, thought-provoking level and Cousin C wins on the preposterous, politically-inspired level. So hooray for winners; give yourselves a pat on the back!

** Is it pathetic that I wrote all this about names and then posted it without giving it a title? Oi vey, woman. Oi vey!

Brrrrr....

Having just arrived back from a blissful holiday in Manitoba, you'd think I would be all fresh and ready to go, but even though it was a short week, it was full and I'm tired. Monday morning I slept in until noon. Today I was actually up by 9:30 (I won't say how many times I beat the snooze button though).

I won't bother with all the little details of my trip. Suffice to say, it was wonderful. I got caught up with a friend and my brother on each of my lengthy layovers in Toronto, checked out my best friend's fabulous new apartment (she even made me supper!) I got to see some Aunts & Uncles and one of my cousins. There were also at least three marathon phone calls with friends I was supposed to go visit, but since it was snowing and the roads were bad that never happened. I helped my Dad out at work and had lunch with Mom & Dad and three of the ladies Mom does hair for. And of course, Grama (yes, that's how we spell it in my family - so there!) and I did lots of shopping for the Mystery Baby, which I might add, hardly moved at all for the entire week. So except for catching a nasty cold and all that ridiculous snow, the trip was great!

We spent Saturday night in Moncton (where I flew in) and bummed around there on Sunday. We even took a trip to the ocean (pictures to be posted later) which was rather disappointing.
Alas, now we're back to our stinks-like-oil house, painting that seems like it will never get done, absolutely frigid temperatures (down to -38C with the windchill; that's -36.4F for anyone who doesn't speak Canadian), and to top it all off, the cats have been pooping under the stairs in the garage that go down to our already scary basement. So now Husband has to rip up stairs to clean it out. And darn it if the price of oil didn't skyrocket while I was away! ARGH!!!

BABY UPDATE: We had another appointment yesterday and I had the best talk with my Midwife. We just talked for almost an hour about everything. Husband came after he was finished work and we got to hear the heartbeat again which the MW said was good and strong. Mystery Baby has hardly quit moving since Saturday morning (I guess it was time to hear Dad again) and the MW was happy to hear that too. Also, thanks to a week of Mom's cooking, my pregnant-weight is back on track and I don't have to try so hard to eat any more. Hooray!

I don't mean to just bore you all with the minutiae of my life, but let's face it, there's just not much else going on around here. This is life in small town isolated America. I need some ideas for posts although I've got multiple pictures I need to get up here one of these days. For now, I'll try to stay warm and maybe go eat some lunch.

On Assignment in Manitoba

I wasn't going to post anything this week since I'm on 'holidays' in Manitoba, but this,

THIS IS RIDICULOUS!!!!

I mean, I like snow as much as the next person (....from Florida...), but since my flight landed last Saturday, according to my calculations, it has not stopped snowing for more than 45 minutes (and that number's up 15 minutes from this morning)! (Yes, I have taken some pictures but I won't be able to download them until I get back to Maine.)

I do realize this is part of life in Manitoba; I remember it well. This is the time of year when that age-old communal lament resonates throughout the province: 'Why, for the love of all things good, do we still live here?!?!' And yet, even as the utterers of those lamentations trudge along sidewalks knee-deep in snow or shovel the snow on their driveways onto piles already eight feet high (for the third time in the same day), something compels them to stay. Perhaps it's because their ancestors are from here and they figure since those people survived, what kind of weaklings would they be if they couldn't tough it out for one more winter? Maybe Manitobans and other Prairie-Dwellers are born with a special gene that enables them to forget the ugliness of the weather from one winter to the next. Or....maybe they're just crazy. Whatever it is that makes Manitobans stay here year after year, I salute you all.

You're crazy, but I salute you anyway.

P.S. I don't know how many of you have seen that new PC vs. Mac commercial, but isn't it hilarious?