Category Archives: health

Nov14

Cats and zombies go bump in the night

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Uuuurgh. It’s not quite seven am and I’ve been up since 6:20 after a sleepless night ending in Spot starting his screeching nonsense and hubby getting up to inflict the cure. I’ll have to explain that another time. In any case, the cats think it is great fun that I’m downstairs and they are rampaging through the house to show their pleasure. Fog, my arse. It’s thunder little cat feet reminds me of.

I have had a weird half-head headache that comes and goes in short blasts behind and above my right ear. It’s probably sinus related, but may be an ear thing. I’m going with sinuses. I’m not particularly congested, but the right side of my nose is a bloody mess inside. Don’t think I’ve had something like this go on for so long without getting better or turn into an infection. I avoid the doctor as long as possible; until it turns into an infection I’d rather not have antibiotics. Even if I wanted to see the doc, I’ve got a 10 am job interview.

So of course, I’ve had very little sleep. Right before bed I read a good short story about zombies that inspired some great dreams. I mean that – not scary but very exciting. It takes some serious gore before I get scared in a dream. It did wake me up, or perhaps I just woke up naturally at a point where I could remember part of the dream. I tried to keep it going when I went back to sleep but only succeeded a little bit. I was zombie hunting!

One of my thoughts on reading the story was my continuing disappointment in how the women never, or rarely, kick ass in zombie tales. Seen The Walking Dead? The women in that show are skinnier and weaker than the animated corpses. I’d rather look at a rotting shambling dead thing than see the female lead in shorts and a tank top. She is so thin she makes me feel sick to my stomach. But that’s beside the point. The point is that even though I enjoyed the story I read, the only female character was a computer whiz hidden away from the action.

The guys, of course, are running around blowing the heads off zombies with accuracy and alacrity, and a good dose of stupidity. How can you not smell a damn zombie?

There’s these yahoos running around inside buildings, looking for the undead. They get surprised a lot. Of course that’s exciting in a book, it would get old fast if no one ever was in any real danger. But where are the women? The most prissy girly-girl in the world would be a great addition to a zombie hunting team! Much better than some hardened career soldier, a fashion junkie will notice disgusting things. Put Barbie in a room full of furniture and one tiny spider, and she’ll find it. Loudly.

Well, the loud part isn’t good for zombie hunting. Maybe an earbud sensor that beeps for the rest of the team when she pisses herself would be more efficient. Not very dignified, but since she’s insisting on full makeup and heels in the apocalypse, she doesn’t get to refuse.

And I wonder why I can’t sleep.

(The story was an excerpt from Orpheus by Dan DeWitt, released this year, his first full-length novel apparently)

Nov13

Socks has a medium green olive!

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I know, what happened to the fruit? The similes are getting stranger and stranger.

I have to admit in advance that I somehow drank quite a bit on Oirish Tirsday. So my notes are pretty illegible, by page…four? If i wrote down that much, it seems I thought everything was funny as hell, too. But I’m going to start off with something that really shocked me.

It seems US schools are no longer teaching kids how to write in cursive: just printing. Socks learned this about three years ago, I learned it on Tirsday. WTF? Why on earth not? I suppose there’s an argument that we type more than print, and print more than write, but to not even teach it anymore seems a bit premature. And as Socks pointed out, silly. How does someone have a signature without cursive? How do you teach someone that bit of originality that says that you are you, if they can’t even hook their letters together? Are we moving into thumbprints or retinal scans? Will the postal delivery or UPS/FedEx person have a filthy, beaten up eyeball scanner instead of those disgusting electronic signature pads? Seriously, I’ve never seen one that didn’t look encrusted in other people’s hand sweat and coffee that the driver spilled. I really don’t like the idea of sticking my face onto something similar. And I’m not even germ-phobic. Or has the US moved on in the last 6 years and those pads are already obsolete?

I still remember learning to write ‘properly.’ I remember because I got really frustrated, to the point of tears, over the fact I couldn’t make a capital ‘O’ perfectly. Yes, I was an anal-retentive, perfectionist little smart ass even then. I also remember learning metric and thinking it made a lot more sense, another teaching they stopped ages ago. Y’all must really think kids are stupid over there. Anyhow; no cursive. We’re doomed.

Socks and I talked about holidays, because she’s got family back home that want her to come. This has stirred up a shitstorm of conflict for her: she’s starting a family, and the holidays are all about family, and since she’s awash in hormones she wants to have her own, relaxing holidays – and also have a big soppy family thing with all those she loves. Except family things have their own quirks, don’t they? Some good, some bad. I don’t envy her, I’ve only ever had a few around me for holidays and it’s no different here. I’d get completely weirded out by dozens of cousins and baskets of babies and oodles of elderly.

She likes Thanksgiving best anyway, and is doing that at her place this year. Yay!

Which brings me neatly into talking about food. We talked about how she will make a new recipe, love it, write it out and put it into her book…and never cook it again. Makes me ask now: what about Thanksgiving? Isn’t it a comfort to have the same meal every year, with perhaps a new dessert or two? Or is it only the spinach dip in the pumpernickel bowl that gets a repeat performance? I know Bear has made the turkey recently and I forget the secret… brined? This week she made gnocchi with kale and butternut squash. Unfortunately the sight of the packaged gnocchi slumping into the pan inspired a bout of yarking, so it was a no-go. Bear whipped up spaetzle and cabbage for her, aw. Apparently for the next day’s lunch, replacing the slimy gnocchi with cous-cous worked. I should offer them a guest spot on the blog to tell about what they cook. I can’t write about these things because a) I’m a picky eater b) they don’t sell most of the interesting ingredients here c) if they did sell it, I couldn’t afford it.

Oh, we learned about kale chips. If I can find kale, I’ll make them and let ya know. But they get massive thumbs up from Socks, Bear, and Miss Fierce.

So let’s see, the Olive Garden inside Socks has fully developed eyes, but they are fused shut like a kitten’s. There’s fingers and toes, too – but the special part of this week is that it is Gonad Week! That’s right, the bits are becoming bits. But at this point, Baby Olive can still go either direction. Bear apparently gets a little ‘grossed out by what’s happening inside his wife,’ the poor dear, so I’ll talk about it for her.

Otherwise, she’s eating more and better, not as exhausted or even simply tired. The hormones, however, are taking over. She says she’d slap herself if she wasn’t so happy, the way she feels about Christmas nostalgia makes her want to take a foot and shove it right up her own ass, and that she knows that she isn’t herself anymore, but it’s funny as hell.

Best quote: “Pre-baby Socks is watching pregnant Socks, and is constantly saying WTF while laughing and rolling her eyes.”

I think I’ll leave you with that one!

Nov7

Some days I love to sit and listen

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I have sunshine again, after the hiatus it took yesterday. It’s a bit breezier today, so I doubt I’ll see any reverse-base-jumping spiders.

It’s a noisier day, too. The kids are back in school this week, and while we don’t live that close it, they are loud. They are apparently at recess, or whatever it’s called here. Lots of screams and shouts, and the occasional thwack of foot on ball. Or head on ball, if they play team sports like I did.

My washing machine is on, too. Doesn’t sound good when it spins, clunk whump rattle. I might have a look next spin cycle and hope it is just all the crap we piled on top rattling around, and not an imbalance. I hate trying to figure those out.

I also hear the ever-present rooks, ravens and crows chattering away to themselves and each other. Sometimes one will perch on top of our chimney and giggle to itself. Imagine a dirty old man telling jokes in a dark corner of a pub, and snickering at every line. Sounds quite creepy coming down the flue.

No cow calls today, nor donkeys, nor chickens. Too late in the morning for them, I suppose. Perhaps they are all too happy with the sunshine to complain.

We need to cut the grass. Its been wet for so long the task is a difficult one. The garden is small, and we have limited storage space, and we try to be green – so our mower is one of those old fashioned rotary push mowers. Fuel is expensive, too, but both of us have plenty of calories to burn! It works great when it is dry, not so much when your lawn is a thin layer of grass floating on very slippery mud. We need to borrow someone’s petrol (gas) mower desperately. It would be nice to have the last cut of the year be an even one. Currently it looks like hell, and the dog doesn’t like to poop in tall grass. I hate sweeping the floor to clear the little loose bits that follow us inside, too – Spot eats them, then of course barfs them up again. I rake, but my back doesn’t like it, and our compost bin is full.

I also need to ask Himself if he’ll help me winterize my potted plants. I don’t want to leave them sitting in trays full of water when the frost starts. It’s difficult to pick a day to do this, however. A sunny day is a good one for working, but also makes winter seem so far away. It’s such a mess out here, though. You’d never believe I pressure washed the lot back in April. In any case, the blueberry bushes are in big pots and I shouldn’t be trying to lift them. Then I’ll have to wash and store the trays somewhere. That’s the part I’m really not looking forward to, our tiny shed is unbearably cramped since the Weber grill iDJ lusted after was found on sale and moved in.

The kids have gone to lunch. I hear a high flying jet, and a truck beepily backing up somewhere in the distance. And my washer, which sounds much better now. Maybe it was just a hairball.

Nov4

Socks has a (large) Raspberry!

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Howdy! Oirish Tirsday was back on Thursday again, so another marathon phone call took place.

After we got my job-interview sagas out of the way, I asked how Halloween went at her place, as this is the first one she’s had there. She was tired, but manned the door for the eve.

Best Costume was won by a dad who was dressed as Bob Ross. Ya gotta love a man who picks Ross as a costume! She’d love to know, are they artists? Or was he just a quick thinker with an Afro and a palette sitting around?

Second prize went to a small boy dressed as Mario of SuperMario fame. She offered him the candy bowl and his response, said in the manner of Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, was: “Oh. Skittles. I have not seen those for a very long time.” Poor little geek-kid. You just know he’s not going to grow out of that voice.

We also talked about how neither of us ever did a trick to anyone. Except, she said, once on her birthday she and her friends toilet-papered a house. But that doesn’t really count, because her dad drove the getaway car, and bought the TP for them to use.

So, on to the baby-growing update! She’s still in fruit stages of development, and this week BabySocks is a large raspberry. I can’t help wonder what the book is going to say when she is further along…will they be brave enough to say cantaloupe? Watermelon? Don’t tell me, Socks, I love the giggle every week when you tell me the new fruit.

Raspberry now has a head bigger than the body and looks less like a lizard. It is growing hands, knees, elbows, lips, nose, and eyelids. There’s some twitching movement, too, but nothing she can feel.

Speaking of feel, the container BabySocks is growing in is now the size of a grapefruit, but she can’t feel any bump or lump yet. Seems like you would, doesn’t it? I asked if she is in the habit of sleeping face-down, because that would probably have to change. But she doesn’t, so sleeping will still be comfy.

Socks is still nauseated, and/or has a sour stomach. Food is becoming an annoyance – not a big deal, but eating has to be thought out in advance. Things that sound really, really, good turn out to be ‘meh’ when on the plate; the happiness of mealtime is a bit lacking. Even her home-cooked mac n cheese was “Not as awesome as it sounded on paper.”

She’s still tired, too, and can see a difference when she doesn’t get enough iron in a day. Zzzzz. Bear took her on a drive through the country to look at the autumn leaves, and she slept through them all. She was hungry, out of snacks and feeling ill from lack of food. But the restaurant he had planned on stopping at was closed. She said she felt terrible that she was spoiling the day by feeling sick and sleepy and didn’t want to tell him. As usual, more worried about others than herself.

All in all, not too bad, really! When she told Bear that she felt pretty good, and was surprised given her family’s pukey history, he leaned back, hooked his thumbs in his belt, and said, “I’m a cattleman. I can pick out a good breeder.”

And she not only let him live, she laughed.

Nov1

Cucurbita maximas in flight!

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My hands are all smelly and prune-y from cooking two massive pumpkins this afternoon. I have a lot of pumpkin now. I also have very little freezer space. Dammit. Because they weren’t pie pumpkins, they are really watery. I’m letting the massive clump of mush drain, but I have no idea where to put it all. If I have time tomorrow, I’ll blitz it in the food processor in the hopes of reducing the sheer volume of gourd guts.

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I might not have time because, drum roll please, I have a job interview tomorrow! Woot! It sounds like a good one, too – in other words, not retail. Although I’m not turning down retail at this point, uh-uh. However, I’ll take the higher pay that (hopefully) comes with an office job.

I used to have a doctor appointment tomorrow, finally, for my back. When the potential employer rang I said ‘yes I am free’ without even thinking about the damn orthopaedist. So I had to ring the hospital today and reschedule (they were closed yesterday for the holiday). I’ve been waiting for this appointment since June 2010, yes. But I’ve been unemployed since February 2010, so the bad back has to wait until the 16th now. They were very nice on the phone at least – I was totally honest and maybe that’s why it is only another 2 weeks instead of months. I know damn well not to call up and reschedule a job interview because I made a stupid mistake.

Oh dear. iDJ strikes again. He made a fire for me, and it isn’t staying lit.
Me: “Your fire went out again. The damn thing is useless.”
iDJ: “It loves you!”
Me: “Go away. Go away now.”

Earlier, I had to point out to him that he was talking to the fancy cheese he was nibbling on. I wonder about that man.

I bet I did something today that none of the rest of you did! I am totally willing to put money on it. Because I have none. I’d bet something really valuable, but on the tiny chance I lost, I doubt my cats would like you as much as they like me. I can stake a husband that talks to cheese? No takers? Okay then, you’d lose anyhow.

I watched someone try to start a helicopter while I was stark-ass naked.

Told you I’d win that one! I will, however, offer a consolation prize to the best guess of how I managed to view a failed aviation attempt whilst in the buff.

Oct31

Socks has a blueberry!

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I’m behind on my Baby-Socks update. Halloween got in the way!

We didn’t have our phone call until Friday, and it was short as I needed to get our Halloween costumes together. So, my update will be a bit short this week.

Socks had another ultrasound done, and got to bring home another photo. Due date is confirmed at June 14-15. Currently, the wee one is the size of a blueberry! I love the way her baby books give her fruit similes.

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She was shopping for a ‘pregnancy journal’ but they weren’t very good, nothing like what she wanted. So, she bought a new Moleskine and started her own. She works on it when watching TV, until she falls asleep… she did say she’s not as tired as she was, but still much sleepier than pre-Booberry. Nausea isn’t too bad, but she gets grossed out easily – even at cartoons. No cravings, really, but she not very interested in food right now. Except bacon. Mmmm, bacon! That in itself is a bit strange as she doesn’t eat bad things like bacon very often.

Her mom is finally reacting the way she was expected to all along – going bananas! Mr Socks (Bear), who is normally very shy, is telling people about their pregnancy all the time now. He’s even having conversations with male friends about “birthing plans.” I wish I could have eavesdropped on that conversation! Bear is also making sure she gets enough iron, because she can’t take those ginormous iron horse-pills right now.

So, over all – everything is fine, baby is perfect, she feels great, and her boobs have gotten 15 years younger. Yay for perky boobies! Enjoy ’em while they last 🙂

Oct26

Kitten update

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I felt I should include an update on the kitten I rescued yesterday. He was pretty good until about 3am, then the mewing started. I have earplugs in my nightstand, and was not slow to use them. Hubby either didn’t know I had another pair, or was too scared of waking me up to ask for them. So, he got NO sleep – up at least 4 times, culminating in him sleeping on the couch with a huge, heavy pillow over his head. He said at one point, he went into the spare room and lay on the floor with his pillow for 15 mins trying to make kitty feel better. Aw.

Neither of our cats or the dog got any sleep either, they were too excited by the odd noises from behind the closed door.

I started getting up for kitten around 6. Got him more food and water, as he’d spilled the water. It didn’t help, he spilled it again. I got him a new clean, dry towel next – a good idea as he finally had peed on the one in the cage. The next time, I gave him a little stuffed toy for comfort; one I didn’t mind having to throw away if it turned out the little guy had something contagious. The last time I went in, I poked a dowel rod through the bars and gently stroked his head and back, and that did the trick. He was lonely. Not so very feral, then. Good.

He also looked better. He’d taken the time to clean his little face of the dirt that had accumulated. His nose and paws were still stained a bit brown from being outside so long, but the pink now showed through. A cat that cleans itself is a healthy cat, another good sign. No snot or eye-boogers, either. Yay!

Hubby was nearly late to work from sleeping through the alarm on his phone and being exhausted. I said he could have the car to make it on time, and I’d walk up later and get it, as I wasn’t awake enough to drive yet. I got the car around 10:15, came home and packed up kitten for the trip to the vet, about 30 mins away.

Got there no problem; kitten was silent, staring at my face the whole trip. The Dr said he was a he (I knew it, from the screaming & neediness – not a judgement on men, just male cats), and he didn’t have the nasty fatal disease they were worried about. Ears eyes nose & mouth looked good too, but he had a sore hip from an unknown altercation. A little painkiller shot, and now what do I do with him, sir? Well, they had no room to store him for pick up, so I could take him back home and schedule a pick up, or take him to Ballyhaunis myself. I said I’d be glad to take him, if I knew where it was. They were too stupid to offer to tell me, so I didn’t bother to ask – the directions would have been suspect. No answer at the MSPCA cattery, either, but I left my mobile no.

I started back home, and realised I was to pass our vet’s office. I stopped in to ask if they knew where the cattery was, nearly gave him away to another customer, and got a call back from the SPCA. Whew. Got my directions, on my way!

Had one panic and had to call the hubby for help – Ballyhaunis wasn’t signposted at a dead end T-junction. After one bad turn from iDJ’s also highly suspect directions, I found the place, and as per their request, rang to say I was there.

A lovely lady cradling a tiny terrier of some sort inside her fleece jacket greeted me and took me into the cat area, where I deposited the little guy into a much bigger cage containing three other kittens of his age. He did go and hide, but no hissing or growling. I gave some love to the two kittens that were asking for some, and then it was time to go.

I had been given some kitten food last night, so I donated that to the shelter along with a big box of unopened dog biscuits that our girl can’t have due to her allergies. I was never made to feel bad or guilty for bringing them another cat – and they have a lot, this is a no-kill shelter – and I was given some gently hinted ideas for helping them raise donations. Everything was clean: there was no odor or mess, and it was obvious the animals are loved, even in their dozens. How hard, so very hard, to do that job. I would fall in love every day, over and over.

The way I fell in love yesterday with a blue eyed white kitten with grey streaks on his head, back and tail. Yes, I’m crying now. Please don’t tell anyone.

Oct20

Socks has a sweet pea!

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Ooo, lookit me, blogging on the night of Oirish Tirsday instead of waiting until tomorrow! Socks had stuff to do, and I’m suffering a hangover and wanted an early night, so we only talked on the phone for 2.5 hours. Yes, that’s a short call!

iDJ is still broadcasting his live radio show upstairs, and the floor is shaking, the walls are thumping, and he is singing. Oh dear. Sounds like Testament is on now, so he’s really rocking out!

I had to go up and share the fun, it was indeed Testament, Trial By Fire. Yay! I’m a metalhead, and really like it when he gets in a bit of old school thrash during his show. The next song was Megadeth, Wake Up Dead – oh yah, baby!

Our neighbours must hate us on Thursdays.

Anyhoo, Socks had her first obstetric appointment today! Everything is fine and good and normal, hooray! She is six weeks along, and the due date is June 14. There’s another ultrasound in a week to confirm this, but we’re pretty sure that’s accurate, since every moment has been planned and documented by Mom.

Wow, I got to call her mom! This is so strange and new to me, and I’m not even centre stage here. But I can only write about my reactions, right?

Socks had an ultrasound today, and got to see her baby for the first time. She said her first reaction was “Oh my god, its real!” Baby is TINY, the size of a ‘sweet pea.’ I had to ask for clarification on how big that is – bigger than an orange seed, apparently. BabySox is currently developing a jaw, cheeks, kidneys, and has the barest beginnings of ears, eyes and a nose. Pretty cool, eh?

Socks was so happy to see the living proof, too. So very happy that she got all three doctors in the room excited and happy along with her. Even the student (that she gave permission to attend) told her congratulations. Aw! She really made me giggle when she told me that this tiny dot is the cutest baby ever, with the most beautiful heartbeat! There’s a good mom in the making. It is fascinating to see Socks change the way she thinks and feels so fast. She admits that if you told her a week ago she would think of such a small, unformed thing as beautiful or cute, she’d have laughed you out of the room.

She’s sleeping a lot, and just starting to feel a little whoopsie at times. Oh, the fun is just beginning! I bet she names the toilet, because she’s gonna get so intimate with it they should be on a first-name basis. She’s also craving savoury food and not sweets, and meat more than she normally would. She’s already a fantastically healthy eater, and it will be fun to track cravings. Doritos are apparently off the menu already, and Swedish meatballs are on. For now…

Love you, Sweet Pea! Thanks for bringing me along 🙂

Oct15

How the hell old am I, again?

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I’ve not been sleeping that well lately, and it seems just about everything and anything will wake me up: the wind, my bad back, the sound of a Bad Cat chewing up a dog’s toy downstairs.

This isn’t normal for me. It might take some time for me to fall asleep in bed, but once I’m out, I’m out. Thunderstorms, garbage trucks, insane neighbours shouting right outside my house at 3 am – I sleep through all of these things. I never wake up when iDJ comes to bed after me. I probably have conversations with him, but I am not awake.

(I have a lifetime history of talking in my sleep. When my sis and I shared a bedroom I got out of bed and lay down on the floor one night. She asked me what was wrong. I told her that the sums were bothering me. She asked what ‘sums’ were. I told her that a sum is the sound a unicorn makes. She told me to go back to bed, and I did. Of course, this is all hearsay, I don’t remember this. But now you know what sound a unicorn makes. Apparently they like math.)

I’m particularly annoyed because Bad Cat has started eating the new Carrot dog toy. The toy honks, but he’s not honking it at 5am. Just eating it. I have no idea how I can hear that in my sleep from upstairs, but I can.

(Either of my boys can be Bad Cat. In this case, it’s the Siamese. He eats fabric and dog kibble, the other one eats plants and plastic. Sigh.)

One night I tried sleeping in the spare room, because the bedroom windows were making funny noises (probably noises quite similar to a cat eating a dog toy that is as big as he is), and iDJ was still up and on my couch.

I tossed and turned for hours, and finally was well and truly asleep – for a bit. I woke up, and it was quiet, and warm, and comfortable – until I turned over and extreme pain shot through my face.

I had a massive zit on my cheek. It was talking to me, in an Irish accent. Let me illustrate:

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It hurt enough to wake me all the way up and keep me awake, thinking. Thinking things like, ‘I’m bloody 40, when is this shit going to stop!?!? Why am I having more skin issues now than I did as a teenager? What the hell is wrong with me? Skin is too dry to not use face cream, but too zitty to allow me use it without a break out… aauggh!’

Ok, I confess. This entire post was thought of right there and then, at 5:30 in the morning, with very little sleep, and it turns out to be nothing but a long-winded excuse to draw a picture. I never, ever, said that the things I think about at ‘oh-dark-thirty’ are logical, or funny. I got nuthin, here.

But look! I drew a picture of a zit on my face saying ‘how’rya!’

Oct14

Auntie E’s Socks update

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Yay, it’s Hangover Friday, which nearly always follows Oirish Tirsday!

Obviously I’m not going to recount every minute of the several hours Socks and I spent on the phone. But, this is where I’m chronicling my view of Socks’ journey into motherhood, so off we go!

First off, just for you, Socks – ask him!

I’ve not laughed so much or so hard on the phone with my girl for a while, for obvious reasons. But this time I nearly peed myself, and I had to take notes. They don’t make much sense, now, but I’m not pregnant and so can drink all the rum n Pepsi I want. At least I can read my own handwriting for a change.

So! Socks hasn’t been to the obstetrician yet. They want her to wait until she’s a bit further along, and will listen for a heartbeat and do an ultrasound then. This is scheduled for next Thurs, so waiting for the next phone date will be stressful for me. Do I need to say that it is much more stressful for her? At this point, the positive pregnancy results are all from home based pregnancy tests.

A lot of them.

Because she’s been peeing on a stick every damn morning for a week, just for something to do! Just to see the line get darker every day. I find this hilarious. My mental-picture-generator is in overdrive with this one. I see the garbage can in her potty overflowing with empty boxes and used tests. I also wonder if she’s saving them? How tempting, for someone like me who saves sentimental stuff. How horrifying, for someone like her hubby, Bear, who had to ask her to move the DRY pee-test from the side of the bathroom sink as it was freaking him out.

Wow, is he in for a wake up call! What if it’s a boy, and has the skillz to pee straight up, into daddy’s eye, during a diaper change? Ok, don’t even tell Bear that this is quite possible.

My other good note is a direct quote, “I love my life, and I want to fuck up every aspect of it.” it would take too long to explain the context, but I love that sentiment so much.

She’s also got some loot from family and friends: a high chair and crib, both too old to be sold due to modern health and safety laws. Still okay to be gifted, though, and the numerous babies who survived these dangerous, well-loved and well-made, wooden items can attest that they aren’t bits of furniture that are actively out to murder babies. We also agree that anyone stupid enough to let a baby’s arm or leg get trapped in the bars of a fold-down crib railing probably shouldn’t be procreating in the first place. I think it’s great she’s got heirloom items that will suit her style, personality and height (sorry, had to!) so well.

We’re also trying not to worry about the fact she isn’t barfing yet. Apparently, you only start doing the morning technicolor yawn after so many weeks of being preggers. But, as she says, she’s a pukey person. Hey, I didn’t say that, she did! Anyhow, being prone to yarking in general, and not yarking yet, is slightly concerning. Not everyone barfs, but it seems her family all did. The female ones. When they were pregnant. I felt the need to clarify that because my mental picture factory is playing again: everyone gathered round the table for a holiday feast, each with a bucket-in festive colors!-by their side. Oops, grandad lost his dentures, better get the tongs!

Well, if Socks wasn’t puking before, she probably is now.

Sorry, grandad.