I don't ever seem to have the time (or the brain power) to write a post anymore, so here: a collection of small happenings from the past couple of weeks.
I bought bras! This is exciting for two reasons.
One: I never buy bras. I've been wearing the same ones since, I don't know, 8th grade or something. Maybe not that long, but you get the point. They're just so damned expensive and no one can see them anyway, so I seem to never get around to replacing them.
Two: I can breathe again. My regular bras were cutting off circulation and airways in their failing attempt to restrain my pregnancy boobage. I'm up 2-1/2 cup sizes already, and my milk hasn't even come in yet. When it does, I'm certain to look like a porn star.
A lactating porn star.
With stitches in her money maker.
We are in a mad race against time to get our kitchen remodeled before The Baby comes. I have been so focused on the kitchen, I've almost completely forgotten about the nursery. We have no furniture, no layette, no supplies. Not only that, but researching and putting in a deposit for a day care option has been replaced by researching and putting in a deposit for a contractor; selecting baby names has been replaced by selecting cabinets. If you receive mail in August announcing the birth of Natural Cherry Finish, you'll know why.
Over the Memorial Day weekend, The Man and I headed to Sasquatch where we saw lots of music and lots of stoners. During one of the shows the first day we were there, we ended up sitting for a moment in the handicapped seating area. When the woman came through to kick anyone out without an appropriate wristband, she passed The Man and I by. We were confused, but didn't think it necessary to argue. She came back by a little later with wrist bands for us, having deemed my bulging belly an adequate enough "handicap." The wrist bands came with access to special bathrooms (the only porta-potties in the place without a mile long line) that just happened to be accessed through the same gate as the back stage area.
We might have sneaked back. Not all the way back stage - for that, there was another check point. But far enough back to find some sort of VIP/press area. Do you know what they have back there? Do you? They have free ice cream!
Free. Ice. Cream.
Duuuuuuude. No line at the toilet and free fucking ice cream? Pregnant ladies' paradise right there.
A snippet of conversation, taken from a phone call wherein The Man updated me on a rather interesting commute:
"I don't have anything to say, except that I just ran over a dildo. I saw it bouncing towards me, and I swerved to avoid the dildo. But it might be lodged in my bumper. So be prepared for that."
And there you have it. I hope to be back to posting semi-regularly soon, but please don't count on it.