Category Archives: Humour

I received a Major Award!

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I won something! I really, really did. This is such a rarity for me! I responded to a contest being held over on Tranquil Space Designs‘ blog, and I was the first winner of a freakin’ amazing prize: 3 full sets of Magic Mojo greeting cards, with a retail value of £110.00/$175! I got them in the post today (actually, they came two days ago but we had to sign for the parcel and couldn’t get to An Post until today).

First, I have to show you the incredibly appropriate and very ecologically-friendly box my Award arrived in:

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Purr-fect, no? Sorry I have no idea why I took such a crooked picture. It looked right at the time… I guess I was just too excited to open the box and see what was inside!

I had to wait until iDJ came home from running errands so he could share in the Award Ceremony. The cats also helped. They knew very well that this box had something to do with cats. We sat down on the couch and went through every card, giggling like kids. His favourite was ‘Keep calm and kitty on’ where mine was – oh man, too hard. I laughed a lot at ‘Come on Baby Lick My Fur’ and ‘aww’ed a lot at the Oliver Twist kitten… nope, I can’t say I have a favourite. BUT! I didn’t realise at first that most of the cards had a funny little descriptive paragraph on the back that was related to the front (the inside is blank). So then we got to go back through and read them all!

iDJ said I can’t send them to anyone, they are too nice. I countered with, ‘But that’s what they are for!’ I have good people in my life that will love these as much as I do, and will keep them forever (they better or they’re off the ‘good people’ list).

I might have to keep one or two…or three…or…

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The contest is still open, so GO and see if you can win, too! If you do win, let me know – I’ll post one to you and you can post the same one back to me, so we can keep it forever – we’re good people, after all!

You’re welcome, butt-cheeks.

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I’ve been ‘spring’ cleaning today. The quotation marks are there because while it is undoubtably spring, I haven’t cleaned properly since before Christmas. Pretty much that makes this ‘much-delayed-post-holiday’ cleaning.

I knew I’d put off a good cleaning too long when I found a paper party hat that came out of a Christmas cracker under the couch. And a bit of a Pringle chip, which is something I only allow myself when I am on holiday and eat a whole can at one sitting. The Diet does not exist during holidays, and why should it? I’m pudgy because I love food (if you can really call Pringles food) and the holidays are about enjoying yourself. Well, mine are.

And: don’t I have a dog to take care of things like stray food on the floor? Sheesh, do your job, Neko.

Anyhoo, I went whole-hog with my cleaning efforts. This is not a one day, or even a one week, task. I take the DVD’s down and wipe or vacuum them. Same the books (less damp-wiping, natch). All the geegaws and knickknacks are wiped, vacced, or actually washed. I have a lot of crap. A lot of interesting and precious things, I mean. Nah, I was probably closer with ‘crap.’

In any case, it’s MY crap, and I’m sick of not being able to tell if a CD is Tori Amos or Metallica or Supertramp because of the thick layer of dust and dog hair covering my small collection of music.

Dust… when you think about it, or to be more realistic, do not think about it, it’s sort of clean. Until you remove some. Then everything that is still dusty looks like shite. Sigh.

I am, actually, a bit of a ‘clean freak,’ above observations notwithstanding. My house is an absolute mess, but it’s not dirty. (I already said dust is clean, right?) I mean, it’s not muddy or greasy or covered in sticky stuff that is better off not closely examined. There is just so much damn stuff! I wish I could be more minimalist like my sister, or my best friend, but… I hoard. There’s nothing like not having things to make you appreciate having things, to excess.

Which brings me, at length, to the reason for this post. Finally. Heh.

Last night the hubby, iDJ, was saying how he’d like to buy me a bigger, nicer, pillow to sit on in front of the fireplace. He first suggested a beanbag chair, which I vetoed as it would be too high, and I learned a long time ago that beanbag chairs are extraordinarily attractive to cats. For use as a toilet. Very much a situation where they were covered in sticky stuff better not examined – or smelled.

His next suggestion was a large, flat, but still fluffy, pillow. One sort of like…yes, exactly like…the dog bed my sister has for her greyhound. You cannot imagine my pleasure in hearing that my loving hubby thinks I should sit on a dog bed.

See, there’s nothing wrong with the little pillows I sit on. Yes, they are hairy – what isn’t in this house? Yes, they are really, really flattened from me squashing them with my pudgy arse for over a year. And yep, now that I think about it, they are probably over twenty years old.

So, because I’m a cheapo, tight-arse, hoarding type: during my cleaning frenzy I tossed my flat, old, hairy pillows into the dryer for 20 minutes to fluff them up and get some of the hair off. Worked like a charm! Too much charm for one of them, though – it went all lumpy. When I finally plunked myself down to rest it just was…horrible. The Diet has worked well enough since Christmas that my arse is a bit more bony and didn’t appreciate the new lumpy feeling underneath it.

Dammit, I don’t want to sit on a dog bed!

And still being a cheapo tight-arse, I decided I could pull all the stuffing out and see if it was fluffable. Super easy; they made pillows with zippers 20 years ago, and the fibre-fill was right there for removing. So I did, and I proceeded over the next 15 minutes or more to make a puffy mountain of filler in my living room.

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I never would have done this if I hadn’t vacuumed and – shock of shocks – mopped! today.

Now, how the living hell am I meant to fit all that back into a case that is only about 18″/46cm square?

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Empty case for size.
Well, it came outta there, so it has to fit back in, right? Never mind that I’ve never done this before, and the chances of my creating an even lumpier pillow are quite high. Also never mind that the cats and dog are watching me make this shreddy, entertaining disaster. I can only hope they are smart/obedient enough to realise this is only something two-legs are allowed to do… but you see how Neko’s giant octopus toy is right next to the fluff-pile – yes, she was holding it and observing me closely. Damn…

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Final result, with the other, non-fluffed pillow for comparison. I done good! It wasn’t that much work, saved me at least €20 of well-intentioned hubby purchases, and it really does feel a lot better to sit on. Of course, now I’ll have to fluff the other one, too…

I will admit that the first time I sat down, I rolled right off the back of the suddenly-pouffy pillow and nearly cracked my head on a bookshelf. At least I wouldn’t have gotten dust in my hair.

Socks has a rutabaga!

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Let me just say it here and now: I suck. I was meant to update weekly on my best friend’s journey through pregnancy – but I’ve slipped, and slid, and now I’m the farthest behind I’ve ever, ever been. I apologised to her, and I know she forgives me as she’s seen the changes this silly space has gone through since I started in October, and knows how good it has been for me… But one of my first intentions here was to chronicle how it feels to be so far away from someone I love dearly, and how her life is changing so fast.

I told Socks that it’s hard to talk about her pregnancy right now, as there just isn’t a whole lot going on in the baby-growing end of things. This is true – but also, she is currently having to concentrate on another aspect of her life that is changing that doesn’t directly relate to Button. We talk a lot about that during our weekly phone call. However, my efforts to blog about Socks aren’t to gossip about her life – it is supposedta be my take on hearing her talk about becoming a mom. Also, my stupid job is sucking up my time and energy, and I’m so tired I rarely feel like writing. Bad!!! So yeah, I bitch to her about the job for extended lengths of time, too.

Anyhoo, I’ve got to go back to the dark ages of March 8 to play catch up. My notes are sparse, shit. Socks was just starting to walk with a waddle, which I find funny as hell trying to picture. I’m sure by now she’s old pro at waddling! Socks is a petite gal, and hasn’t gotten fat – just baby-belly-big – so when Button moves around you can practically see which of her body parts is front and center. Back on the 8th, Button liked to present her arse to the world quite a lot. Her whole size was that of an iceberg lettuce – big, but just wait until I get up to date! I have a quote: ‘I’ll probably give birth spontaneously in the kitchen!’ I’m pretty sure this is wishful thinking on Bear’s part…

On the 15th, Socks started getting allergies. Yuck. She’s not good at taking antihistamine even when not preggo, so I hope that shit eases off. She also has given up being freaked out about the impending baby shower on May 5 in favour of worrying over buying a house. I totally suck here, as I didn’t note the fruit and/or veg of the week, but I have some fabulous quotes. Socks to Bear, after watching The Walking Dead: ‘I’m the least productive member of this group, you better take me out and shoot me before the zombies arrive!’

Socks to Bear: ‘Guess what is in just three months?’
Bear: ‘Our first BBQ?’
Socks points to enormous belly.
Bear: ‘Oh.’

Bear, on putting his hand on her belly and feeling Button do a barrel-roll in there: ‘Oh my god, what the fuck was that? I thought she was in there further?!?’

Also, Button has become interactive: Socks says she can poke her in the butt and Button reacts. Cool!

Not so cool: Socks is getting a revisit of her old nemesis, sciatica. An ice pack and stopping what she is doing does the trick – unlike in the past, she says, there is no working through this pain. You just have to stop and rest.

Okay up to the 22nd now – god I’m a jerk – and the sciatic pain is much less. Yay! This week was a cauliflower: one of my least favourite veggies, glad that’s past! Socks did say her hands and feet were having a bit of swelling, so more rest is required. Oh darn, what a hardship when she’s so tired all of the time! A direct quote: ‘Button is supposed to be about 15inches long and weighing in at a little over 2lbs at this point. I’m not sure about you but I’ve never seen a Cauliflower that big. Another interesting fact about Button at this stage is that any day now she’ll begin to open her eyes. Kinda cool and creepy all at the same time.’

And we have a belly-photo update!

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Wait, this says week 27! I’m all messed up. Sorry…

Okay! We are up to yesterday, which is when Oirish Tirsday had to be scheduled due to house-signing business. Week 29 – I’m trusting that number as I wrote it down, how silly am I? – is either a rutabaga or acorn squash. Again, Socks says she’s not seen either of those that is 2.5 to 3.5 lbs and 15 to 16.5 inches long. I’ve not seen an acorn squash in years, but our rutabagas here are huge, and called a swede.

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Acorn squashies. I forgot they are green. How do you know when they are ripe? Good thing Button is a singleton, I think Socks would explode if she had this many.

I got to hear a weird story about someone who felt it necessary to question whether Button was a girl or boy, and how everyone seems to think it is perfectly okay to make extremely personal comments and observations about Socks and Button. Socks doesn’t mind – she’s not easily offended and the way humans act and interact is a never-ending source of entertainment for both of us.

I’ll end with another quote from Bear. They were talking about how Socks is a bit upset that she can’t do all of the packing and moving that needs to be done (a very hard thing to admit, for a person used to doing it all, always). Bear told her that what he wants, needs, and expects from her is to point at things that need to be done and let him know when it is time for lunch. Aww.

Sunshine, music, and kitties

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I have had a lovely, sunny, summery day today. And I did next to nothing. I enjoyed the sunshine; I ate the huge breakfast my hubby cooked; and eventually I did some of the dishes. I’d intended to paint my scavenged trellises a bit more – but only if the hubby could help me remember what odd place I’d left the paint tin. Instead we ended up with a huge crisis in which a tin of clear varnish was not only upside down and opened up and spilled everywhere, but did so inside The Closet Of Doom. Hence things like toolboxes, old paint tins, step stools, work gloves, ironing boards – and our Dyson – were coated liberally with acrylic varnish. Yay! After cleaning that enormous mess up, I no longer had any desire to paint, so I sat and read in the sun for several more hours.

The hardship, the horror. I know, I know.

I had to move out front as there was no more sunshine in the back garden. Now, I grew up in the American south, and it just isn’t done to sit out front of your house and drink a beer unless you qualify as po’ white trash (I am white, what other color trash could I be?), but I get sunshine so rarely that I just had to. My concession to being sort-of-in-public was to take a shower first. Good thing I did, because I just wouldn’t have been respectable enough to listen to my neighbour’s teenage son and his friend – who were conversing a few yards away in his driveway – fart loudly and giggle softly if my hair wasn’t clean.

Eventually, the sun gave up on me and I relocated to the back garden again where iDJ was preparing to have a BBQ and, of course, had the tunes a-goin. I stopped trying to read about serial killers and took pictures of Spot trying to open the sliding glass door with one pathetic kitty-arm:

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You can’t blame him, really. Both of his people and his dog were outside (see Neko in the reflection?). And because iDJ has to have music allllll the time, the door was open a crack to allow for the speaker-wires. I understand, being a sun-worshiper myself. But I’ll stay in my yard, and he won’t, the bad boy.

Evening ended up with lovely sausages and burgers and me being dead tired but having to get up extra-early for some physiotherapy on my back. Somehow I think a few more hours in the sun would do me a better turn…

Paddy’s Photos continued

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Okay, here’s a few shots that say it all about why I love our parade, and why nothing in Dublin or New York City can ever compare to the amount of joy I get out of what happens in my small town.
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Zombie babies.
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I’m not even into kids or cuteness, but these wee ones were hilarious.
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Mini-Jedward. Okay, only my Irish and UK readers are going to even have a clue who these adorable boys are meant to be. But: awwwwwwww! Way more cute than the real thing.
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I have no idea. But someone took the time to make a float with nothing but a toilet on it and drive it down the main street behind a tractor.

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…?
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…!!!!!
I know this man pretty well, and the question every year is what dress will he wear in the parade? He’s well over 6ft, and a well-respected businessman… who is acting out Rhianna being told to not be such a hussy while shooting a video in an Irish farmer’s field last year. I’ve never seen a man in a woman’s bikini smile so much! This was the highlight of the parade for me, and his shenanigans usually are the funniest part every year. I didn’t spill my drink, but nearly wet my pants laughing.

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Samba band! For Minlit 🙂

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Seeing close friends in the parade is great fun, too! Nurse Bella didn’t really enjoy the noise and activity, but it seems ‘flooding’ worked for her and she’s less of a scaredey-dog than she used to be.

I’ll leave you with not the one, but two pictures stolen from hubby. I realised there was a third shot of his that I really loved. First, another action shot.

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We think this was meant to be about some celebrity fat-fighting, boot-camp style reality show. No matter – I love the energy these young lads still have after running and jumping and dragging bloody great tires up at least a mile of the town before they got to iDJ and his camera. I also love that iDJ had the guts to stand right there and let them leap around him!

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I’ll finish where I began – with the pipers. Another iDJ shot, and wow! Again he was right out in the road in the way, but our man never blinked an eye. He must know he looks that dammed impressive!

Paddy’s photos

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Right! Hubby uploaded 118 pictures today to Facebook from his iPhone and our ‘real’ camera, which now has issues of keeping battery contact and dies constantly and is super annoying.

I forgot I even had a camera until the parade was at least half over. So, these are my pics, except for the two I’ll give him credit for – I only really loved two of his 118 enough to steal them, and I think you’ll see why. My pics are mostly rubbish, but I think they give an idea of what it felt like to be in my town on Saturday afternoon.

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First – this is from the night before. The pipe band went all around the town playing in each pub (a shorter journey with fewer stops than it was even six years ago, alas). We were at one end of the town – in a pub, of course – and when the band moved on they lined up smartly in the street, be dammed to traffic coming either way, and marched right down the entire town. I don’t know if any photo can convey how surreal and exciting this was for me. ‘Scotland the Brave’ at full volume at ten o o’clock at night is…amazing. From the other gawkers, I wasn’t alone in appreciating their miniature solitary parade.

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Parade day! What’s a parade in the whest of Ireland without a big, feic-off-tractor or three? This was the first one, and the reason I remembered I had a camera in my possession. Can you tell we’re standing outside of the same pub as the night before? Oh yeah.

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Bet you didn’t expect a helicopter, though! I think – but I’m not sure – that this is the one I’ve been up in. If you’re afraid of flying, or of being on a motorcycle, don’t go up in a wee two-seater whirlybird like this one. I adored my all-too-brief time in (this?) one.

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Classic car 1.

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Classic car 2.

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Classic car 3.

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Classic car 4 – and I’m back to black and white as this just was meant to be in B&W.

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Now we’ll have a compare and contrast. This is my best shot of The Rocky Horror Picture Show cast tribute.

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This is the one iDJ took. Damn him!!!

I think I should break here and do another post for the rest…

The trouble with never

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I’ve an almost-earworm tonight, but it’s not the music that is in my head. It’s thinking about a line of the lyrics:

‘When is the last time you did something for the first time?’

This is a line from the song ‘The Trouble with Never’ from the recently released Van Halen album, A Different Kind of Truth. I have it burned onto a CD in the car and I’ve played it over and over – not because I adore it, but because I need several repetitive exposures to new music before I can decide if I like it or not. I know Van Halen isn’t everyone’s cup o’ tea, especially the fabulous Sled, but I love hard rock and VH were sooo good back in 1984 when they released an album by the same name. Eddie Van Halen is a master guitarist, and ‘Diamond Dave’ (David Lee Roth) was so big, blonde, and obnoxious that even despite his mysogynistic tendencies, I just had to like VH. Especially the song ‘Jump’ which I got so excited about one MTV-watching afternoon in ’84 that I danced down the hallway and leapt into my darkened bedroom, where I smashed right through an empty aquarium I’d left in the middle of the floor. I will forever have a long scar on my foot and the memory of sitting down on my bed and watching the white me-meat that used to be covered in my skin well up and begin to drip with blood, and I will forever hear my own worried, wavery voice call, ‘mommmmmm?’ because I knew it wasn’t going to turn out well.

But, I don’t love Van Halen. That was reserved for bands that were much less mainstream back in 1984, like my forever favorites Metallica – they are still around, and still jammin’ – but their current music is nothing like the amazing new sound and sheer powerful energy they had in the early 80’s. And I really miss their instrumentals – Sled, if you’ve never heard it, take a moment to search youtube for Metallica’s ‘Orion’. (I got no clue how to embed a link) Wow. And still my favourite of theirs, after all these years.

Back to the topic at hand.

I’m not a terribly positive person. I know this, and I don’t like knowing this about myself very much, but all the not-liking does for me is make me feel even more negative. So, I attempt to surround myself with people who aren’t irritated by my negativity; like Socks, or my hubby who can usually be broken out of his occasional bad mood by something as simple and as silly as a fart-joke; or even other bloggers, who might have a down day but usually use the medium to spread happy thoughts like Disney fairy-dust.

So, when I found myself really thinking about the line, ‘When is the last time you did something for the first time?’ I was a little surprised to realise that I do just about everything for the first time, every day. And I usually know it. For example, I’m well aware that I’ve never written these words in this order, and I know that I’ve never hoped that people I’ve never met might respond and feel something – anything – due to what I’m saying about this topic. I’ve never sat here and written a blog post while listening to iDJ work up a dance set in the hopes that he gets a spot on an Irish broadcast radio station instead of the (two!) international Internet stations he is played on.

I’ve never asked someone who loves Wagner to listen to Metallica. I’m a bit afraid with that one! I have so much respect for Sled – someone I’ve never met – that I’d be sad and a bit ashamed if she hated one of my favourite songs! How odd! How NEW!

Perhaps I’m a ‘change’ addict, like my cat Spot. If he is, it’s my fault. I’ve never lived in one house as long as this since I was a child. I’ve never held any job longer than five years. I’ve never kept a partner longer than four years, until I met iDJ. (yep, he’s that special. I need to tell him so more often! I’m glad that I’ve reminded myself of this.)

In any case I’m taking it as a positive thing that I know when I’m doing something new, and that I am continuously appreciating the new and that I’m noticing, and savouring, the moment. Even when it is something as simple as hearing a song I’ve heard several times before, but this time I actually hear the words and realise I’m a better person than I expected.

“The Trouble With Never” (abbreviated version, chopped by moi)

You often wonder, you want to know.
How deep does the rabbit hole go?

I know you never thought about it
but ask yourself later:
When you turn on your stereo
does it return the favor?

That’s the trouble with never,
(It) sure seems like a mighty long time.
That’s the trouble with never.
When was the last time
you did something for the first time?

Socks has an Eggplant!

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Holy big belly, Batman! An eggplant, already? Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that Button was as small as a blueberry? This is getting out of hand.

Apparently Socks is starting to realise herself just how out of hand this big baby belly is going to get. She already has to sit down to put on her socks, and can’t wait for summer when she no longer has to bother. Self-pedicures are nearly out of the question, too. And she still has months to go! Ouch. She says she’s loving being pregnant – something I just cannot imagine.

Another thing I just cannot imagine dealing with is a phenomenon she’s calling baby brain. She’s put on her underwear backwards. She’s put the old newspaper away in the cupboard and the fresh rolls in the recycle bin. I’m sure there’s loads of other examples that she hasn’t told me! I thought ‘baby-brain’ was a myth, and actually I never heard the idea that pregnant women get scatterbrained until I moved to Ireland. I just assumed it was a symptom of not using contraception: after a half-dozen kids or so, who wouldn’t get a bit loopy? But no, apparently it can happen to a gal who is preggers for the first time and usually has everything under control. I would have trouble dealing with that myself; but as usual Socks deals with the new haphazardness of her thoughts with a laugh and a shrug. It won’t last forever, after all – why not laugh?

So, let’s see: last week Button was the size of a papaya. Or an ear of corn. Quote of the week: “if they can’t get their shit together…” I’m pretty fond of ‘eggplant.’ For one, it starts with an E, my favourite letter, and for two, I guessed it right all by myself!

On the physical growth front, I only have an update from two weeks ago. We didn’t have an Oirish Tirsday last week as MommaSocks was in town. But last week was kinda cool – Button is starting to create fat reserves, beginning what for most of us is a lifetime of wishing they would go away. She also has eyebrows and lashes now, but still has no pigment in her hair or skin. For another quote, “She looks like a little ghostie, or a white asparagus!”

The biggest news was that while MommaSocks was in town, she was able to attend an ultrasound scan and see Button herself. While I’m sure that was amazing for MommaSocks, the best part came when the technician snuck in a free 3-D scan as a surprise (they weren’t meant to do one so early, nor for free). Apparently there was loads of weepy happiness, but I won’t get the full story until tomorrow night…

Socks has a… Pomegranate. Because she says so.

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Yet again I’m doing two weeks of news in one post, sorry. My brain insists I only did a Socks + Button a few days ago. I guess this is what happens when I don’t blog daily…

Last week, Button was the size of a spaghetti squash. This week was such a let-down on the fruit-simile front that Socks got annoyed and decided Button is a pomegranate. Much better than the ‘large mango’ they were trying to foist upon her. I mean really, we already HAD a mango! Also, in her own written words: “Another source says a Doll. What? You can’t just throw Doll in there in the middle of fruit!”

I totally think ‘doll’ is a cop-out. Dolls come in all damn sizes. I’m pretty sure Button isn’t a Barbie or a Cabbage Patch Kid.

Last week, Socks told me that from here on out there is the possibility of her belly-button turning into a outie. Fingers crossed for Bear’s nervous stomach that it doesn’t!

She says that her belly has ‘magical powers.’ The full laundry basket whisks itself upstairs when she isn’t looking. The kitchen cleans itself when her back is turned. And strangest of all, the trash takes itself out. We are investigating the phenomena and will get back to you with the results.

Socks also told me that her belly is contagious. She has a local friend who suddenly is taking steps toward creating a Button of her own, after never really considering it seriously. This lady sounds really cool – I’d like her, I know it! – and I’m happy that Socks gets to use her hard-earned knowledge to help someone else through such a huge life-step: she enjoys helping others and is damn good at it. It even turns out they will have the same OB.

Things weren’t all rosy last week, though. There was The Babies R Us incident. We won’t go into detail because she reads the blog, of course, and I don’t want to give her flashbacks. Suffice to say that Internet shopping is a helluvalot easier on a woman who was just staring to feel pregnant, and swears that she is waddling already. But it did give me the quote for last week:
Bear – ‘Thank you for having a baby!’
Socks – ‘That’s the easy part! Shopping is hard!’

On to this week! First, the photographic evidence:

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What was the first thing I noticed? That she had to buy a bigger top! I knew the other one wasn’t gonna last much longer. She had a general check-up Dr appointment and The Bellah is 25cm. Now, notice that I’m not using Imperial measurements…because apparently, the medical profession the the US uses metric. Even when no one else over there does. Sigh. Since I moved here, I’ve been trying to train my brain to think in both measurements, and in both Fahrenheit and Celsius – so my guess without Google is 17 inches. Let’s see if I’m right… Hell, no. It says 10 inches. Wait, that Bellah looks bigger than that!!!

Oh well, I have to work harder in training the brain, it seems. Socks did get her first comment on being obviously pregnant from a stranger this week, too – the FedEx delivery lady. First of many, Socks: people are damned nosy!

I’m going to let her speak for herself again, because I think this is funny…

“Well this week marks the beginning of my 6th month of pregnancy. Do not get me started on how 23 weeks equals the 6th month. That is an argument no one is going to win. They say “if you go by calendar weeks, well then your pregnancy would be 10 months”. So what? If it’s ten months then it’s 10 months. Doing some Crazy Voodoo OB Math and changing the numbers around on paper isn’t going to change the fact that this baby is in there for 40 weeks. Okay, pet peeve aired and over with. Thank you for listening!”

The last news is that Button is very, very, active – already. Her cartwheels can be seen from across the room, and even made the doctor laugh. It was interesting to hear that Button’s heart rate increased when she was cavorting, too. Pre-natal calisthenics! Bear has only managed to feel her moving once, so I think we’ve got a momma’s girl on the way.

So, Button will double on weight in the next four weeks – ow, poor Socks – and the waddling will only get more pronounced. Quote of this week, regarding the size of The Bellah: “I have a definite hitch in my giddyup.”

Socks has a small melon! Ok, had. Now baby is a banana…

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Wow, I’m a crappy chronicler and tipping into being a crappy friend, too! I haven’t updated my Socks+Button posts in two weeks. I know she doesn’t hold it against me, but I’m disappointed in myself for not being on the ball.

So, I have two weeks to talk about here, and I’m going to make a hames of it (I have no idea how to spell that bit of slang, it’s an Irish expression for ‘a mess’. Phonetically will have to do).

I was giddy about last week’s fruit because Button finally tipped into melon-size territory. I’ve been waiting for this, although now it is here and somewhat gone, I feel as though it wasn’t as funny as the anticipation. I guess it’s hard to tease someone about carrying a small cantaloupe in their belly when they are so happy about it, and totally comfortable with the expanding waistline.

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That’s a cantaloupe. Smiling face by moi.

Last week, Button was 6.5 inches and 11oz. That’s 8.89 cm and 311.84 grams. Really growing fast now – and at 20 weeks, she was half-way done cooking! The banana (this week) is for length only, and that measurement is from ‘crown to rump’ only. Head to toe is probably more like 10 inches. Socks says she’s gained ten pounds (4.55kilos). Of course she has no issues about her weight, that would be silly and while Socks is great fun, she isn’t a self-absorbed narcissist who is worried that she is ‘fat.’

I’ve a few stories this time: one is about…drum roll please…CAKE. Socks had a craving for CAKE, and went a bit overboard… I’ll probably have to explain some of this in advance. See, there’s cake, and there’s crappy grocery-store-made sheet CAKES that you only ever have at a party. Cake is homemade and lovely. Grocery-store CAKE can be tasty but is nothing like real cake. It comes a in huge, one layer, 16×12 (bigger than 30x40cm) shape, and the icing is always way too sweet and way too greasy and there is always way too much of it. But, when a pregnant woman craves crappy grocery-store CAKE, there is no other solution than to go buy a slice.

Unless, of course, they don’t have just a slice for sale when you are in mid-craving. Then the only option is to buy a whole damn CAKE and take it home. Here’s the visual (wish I had a photo): a visibly pregnant woman with an entire huge CAKE in her arms, and nothing else…except for a big ol ‘mine-all-mine!’ smile on her face. With her happily indulgent hubby right behind, because he just knows she’s never going to eat it all herself. Quote of last week: ‘OMG I’m breaking all the rules! Wait, I’m an adult, why can’t I buy a whole damn CAKE when there isn’t a party if I want to?’

Socks’ mom is coming to visit in March, and the visit coincides with the next scan appointment. MommaSocks is, of course, super excited at the prospect. Oh, Socks can be cruel: she said she gave a big X-Factor Results type of pause before telling her mom whether Button was a girl or boy. “It’s….a…. …. …. (tension building music)… … Girl!!!!”

I’ll end on a sort-of-gross note, because I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t fascinated with the parts of living beings that are usually hidden. Button now has taste buds: which is a bit disturbing because she now can, and does, swallow the amniotic fluid she is swimming in (the fluid itself changes daily, dependent on what mom eats: Socks says Button is going to love Wint-o-green flavour Lifesavers and citrus). This might not seem too strange until you consider that what goes in, must come out. Where does the urine go? Back into the amniotic fluid!

So, yes; we all drank our own pee before we were ever born. Tasty!