Tag Archives: Friends

Return to Piggy Peggy


So, I’ve been off work for nearly a year and a quarter. I’m back now, and easing up from half days into full time.

Today, my old friend found me!

She is looking good! Her ears are clean as is her fur, and no parasites that I could see.

She was happy to see me, and remembered me right away. I didn’t even have food but I got to give her lots of cuddles and even some lap time.

Unfortunately, she still hasn’t been spayed. She shows signs of yet another recent litter. I’m also concerned because the houses I believe she ‘lives’ at have For Sale signs out front.

In any case, it made me happy to have a visit with my old friend Piggy Peggy today.

Socks has a… Pomegranate. Because she says so.


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:

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.”

I’ve moved! Sort of…


Guess what I got for Christmas from my lovely Canadian friend? heretherebespiders.com ! No more .wordpress in there to make typing it out such a hassle. I’m not really sure what all of the other benefits are yet, though. Anyone? I am pretty slow at these things, surprisingly. Well, it surprises me, anyway.

Anyhoo, CanuckHound (will that do? I’ve been trying for months to nickname this gal with no success) came by the house last night and we set up my nooooo website, yay! In return I gave her a bag of weed. No, not that kinda weed – it was lemon catnip that I grew, dried, and pulverised. I’m hoping her kitty Penny likes it, as mine have no interest. The lemon part disgusts them. However, I simmered the leftover stems and flowers on my stovetop for a few days and I swear the good smells made Spotty a little high.

iDJ gifted her with some ambient music. I’d tell you more about what it was, but I’d have to ask him. He’s currently on his headphones gearing up for tomorrow’s radio23 show. Little plug, there, hehe. What I’m saying is that I’d be forced to make him talk, and I get enough of that in a day. Sorry, dear. I do know one of the artists was Aphex Twin, his all-ambient album.

CanuckHound also brought him this:

I know doodly-squat about Scotch, sorry.

Before she went home, we were talking art and I wanted to show off my sister’s work. Well, I was bummed to see she took her website down and put up a pic of her daughter – in other words, she’s way too busy to bother with the website right now! I was a bit bummed, but CanuckHound said I should type ‘wayback machine’ into Google. Well! The wayback machine brings up old cached websites, how cool! It didn’t work for my sister’s pictures (I’m sure she’ll be happy to know that) but it did work on my old website, which dates back to and hasn’t been touched since 2004! I thought I’d lost every picture and word I typed as I never saved it anywhere. I’m thrilled! Anyone want to see/read what I was rambling about eight years ago? It was mostly my trip to England to hang out with my sis: my first time overseas. I’m going to save it all, any way – before it really is too late!

Maybe the holiday blues


I’m not sure what’s going on with me. I don’t feel like drawing or writing. My appetite isn’t the best, and I still haven’t bothered with Christmas cards. I’m not motivated to do a single thing.

I’ve a ton of pics from my international holiday fest to put up, and I don’t feel like it. Most of my holiday decorations are shoved willy-nilly on my dusty bookshelves and not prettily arranged. I have a new Stephen King book…well, yes, I do want to read that. Maybe that’s the reason I don’t want to do anything? I’d like to comfortably immerse myself in his world.

Maybe I’m really feeling the loss of a friend. I met him once fifteen years ago, but we’d met up on Facebook. He was 44, handsome and funny, and I was trying to get him to visit Ireland and go diving off the coast of Mayo. He was the best and childhood friend of my ex-boyfriend (and ex-employer, and good friend still). He killed himself around Thanksgiving and wasn’t found for a week. I only found out on Tuesday.

I know I’m over emotional right now – the holiday charity commercials are making me tear up. Especially the one for the Salvation Army with the sad, lonely old woman. I know she’s an actor, but ouch, she gets to me. Good thing I haven’t seen any ads for Cat’s Trust yet this year, or any animal shelters. I’d be in bits.

Tonight should be Oirish Tirsday: my phone call to Socks while iDJ spins the mp3’s upstairs. But, she’s gone home for an early Christmas with her family and to assist her mother in law’s recovery from knee surgery. Maybe I’m a bit lonely after the excitement of the week? Maybe I am, as Socks put it, grieving for my upcoming loss of our weekly marathon phone call? How horrible to grieve about less time with a friend when the reason is one that makes the friend so happy.

Maybe I also think I am an arsehole for feeling that way, if I do. I’m not sure….I knew it was coming, after all.

Maybe I’m also mourning the loss of having most of my time to myself. I have a job again. I’ll be stuck back into a rigid structure not of my own devising. I’ll have to do what others say, when they say it. I’ll have to talk on the phone and eat lunch at a specific time.

I’ll have to put on a bra every day. The horror.

It sucks being broke, but man, I did like not having to work for someone else. I came up with a bunch of business ideas so I didn’t have to work for anyone else, but until the art came along my hubby was not supportive of any of my schemes.

And now that I have found the art, I have to leave it for a 9-5. Sigh.

I noticed a lot of bloggers seemed a bit down two weeks ago. There seemed to be a run of posts about loss at the end of November. Maybe I’m a bit slow and am only now getting to that place.

I do miss my family, as small as it is. Maybe that makes it harder, to only have a few close to you and be so far from them. I’d love to hug my dad and have one of his homebrewed beers, his roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding, his traditional Christmas morning cinnamon buns. I’d love to share my niece’s second Christmas – this time I think she’s old enough to start to feel the magic. I miss my mother, always.

Here in Ireland, I miss being able to afford going out to the pub and having a great time with everyone in the town. Everyone showing off their new clothes or jewellery, old friends and family returned home for the week, lots of laughter and drink and of course, the craic. We drink a lot here because that’s where you meet everyone and all the best stories are made. It’s hard to explain until you’ve experienced it. Socks visited once, she understands now. My father would cut off his foot to move here for it.

Maybe I feel the weight of so much change and flux bearing down upon me. I’m not so sure I like as much change as I used to.

Maybe it’s just the good old holiday blues.

Socks has a Plum! No, a Peach! No, a Lemon!


The short story: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my weekly updates: one, two, three, four, five, and six. That will catch you up to now!

No, I’m not three weeks behind on my Socks + Button update. I am a week behind. But also in the last week, her due date got bumped forward a week! She had another ultrasound/sonogram (whatever they are called these days) and based on Button’s measurements, they think Socks is now due on June 9 rather than June 14. So we skipped a fruit entirely, dammit.

We’re both a bit baffled by the fruit-size similes lately. Saying a plum is bigger than a lime was a little odd. I guess the book writers have really small limes. They are saying at week 13, baby is the size of your closed fist. I don’t know about you, but my fist is bigger than any peach, ever. Also bigger than any lemon I’ve ever seen; I’m tipping into navel orange territory here. I have some big hands, I’m not a little person…but still.

Bear, of course, just says that of course Button is big: it’s a Bear Family baby. Well, yeah!

Bear is still in denial, or something like it. He needs to educate himself on what is going on ‘inside his wife’ and stop being so freaked out. Well, ‘freaked out’ is too strong an expression. He’d be more comfortable if he knew the medical facts, I think, rather than listening to his male friend – who has a child! – tell him that Button has gills and a tail that “falls off.” Sheesh, no wonder he’s a bit green around his own gills, if he believes that rubbish. He’s just still a bit unwilling to look for himself.

The other important business that Socks had taken care of is testing for chromosomal abnormalities. A bit of a controversial subject in Ireland – there is no abortion for any reason, so why bother to check if the baby you are carrying is fully healthy and normal? It was just a blood test from Socks herself, but a rather odd one. They didn’t draw blood, they just did a finger-prick and put one drop of blood on each of five dots on a card. Then they folded it up and shipped it off to the lab. Wow, huh? I’m fascinated by this, as is Socks – just how does an old dried up bit of blood tell them anything? Medicine sure has come a long way.

The ultrasound had a little surprise – at 13/14 weeks, Button is already sucking its thumb! The picture is clear even to me, and I have trouble seeing much on those printouts. Socks said she could see the movement ‘live’ on the screen, which was thoughtfully placed on the ceiling so she didn’t have to turn to look.

Nice – the best I ever got at a gynaecologist’s office was a smiley-face sticker on the ceiling. It didn’t help.

I almost don’t want to tell any more. There is some news that isn’t ‘bad’, per se, but of things that will have to be kept in mind for the future. First, Socks has a fibroid. They say that it presents no danger, but may cause her more pain than usual during labor and after the birth. Second, there’s an issue that may mean she is at risk of high blood pressure, preeclampsia, and that Button will be smaller than usual for its gestational age. Now, we already see that last one doesn’t seem to be holding true. She has never had high blood pressure – actually runs low – so we’re not worried there either. They put her on one baby aspirin a day to reduce the risk of preeclampsia, and she’ll take that until she is 8 months along then stop. She isn’t in any danger until 20 weeks at the earliest, however, so this early warning of the potential risk is welcome and I’m sure they will take good care to continue preventive measures.

She sounds like she is in really good hands, after all: a video monitor on the ceiling!!!

Socks has a Lime!


The short story: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my weekly updates: one, two, three, four, and five. That will catch you up to now!

Holy crap! Baby Button grew from the size of a prune to the size of a lime in a week! That’s just crazy talk.

I’m all excited because in a moment, I’ll have a picture of her to share! One that illustrates quite well the whole ‘lime’ business.

We didn’t get our Thursday BS session due to Thanksgiving, but her house is her own again and she had time to send me an email update on how she’s doing. It was short but she still made me laugh: she had a craving for pickles. Ha! Hmm, I’m not sure that’s going to be understood internationally – in the USA, the joke about pregnant women is that they crave strange things, and the example always used is pickles (gherkins) and ice-cream. Yum!

Oo! Picture is here…just let me…hold on…a little bit here…yes. Ready for viewing!

HAHAHAHAHAH! She said her smile was too goofy to share with the world, so I gave her a goofier one 🙂 Love you!

Fun on the Internets


I had a busy night over on the FaceBook last night. I put up my seahorse drawing, and by the time we were done talking shite, me and two friends racked up 190 comments.

Only four were about the actual drawing.

The rest, well. Bird started it by offering up embarrassing stories. She put up three then asked if I had any. I said I couldn’t think of anything, not like hers, anyway! I suggested that another friend (who had commented on the actual drawing first and was, of course, being notified of these new comments) might remember some dirt on me, as we’ve been friends since I was 12 or 13.
Well, she didn’t have anything on me either. I’m sure I had to have something, but just couldn’t come up with anything I did publically that I found embarrassing.

I have a private, in my own house story, but only one other person ever knew about that one.

Not to say that my history has been boring, oh no. I did things on purpose to mess with people, though. I pierced my ear in class with a huge safety pin, and bled everywhere. More disturbingly, I once sat in class and pricked holes in a finger, then spattered blood all over my desk in pretty patterns. I think I was trying to creep out the only kid in the class that was stranger than I was. I guess I was goth before there was goth. I wasn’t embarrassed, and I didn’t get in trouble for either incident.

I did get in trouble for painting one eye – just one – in heavy black and white professional clown makeup. I can’t recall if they made me wipe it off or not, but I do know I irritated the powers that be.

It was a bit like that.

Once I borrowed a dress from a friend and put it on before school. Maybe I was way taller than my friend and therefore showed too much leg, but the school administration stopped me cold and wouldn’t let me go to class. They called my mother to bring me ‘proper’ clothes. While I was waiting for her, I could hear the women in the office talking about me. They called me a whore, and made nasty comments about what I probably had been doing with my boyfriend before school started. It was the first and last time I ever wore a dress to school.

Still, I was ANGRY, not embarrassed. Sorry that my mom had to leave work and bring me clothes, too. Ya know what? I’m still a bit pissed off.

My sister told me recently that when I was very young, I would hiss and growl like an angry cat. At other kids who picked on me on the schoolbus. Yeah, a bit odd.

I just went back to the FB comments; we spent three hours talking! Too funny. Two of us in Ireland and one in Florida, and what great craic. The best part of it all was how much it helped them both. Bird because she’s had it really rough lately, and has had huge life changes to deal with. But, a listing of embarrassing moments made her remember what a free spirit she is at heart, and that she doesn’t need a ‘bucket list’ because she has lived. My other friend because she’s a bit lonely and isolated out in the sticks of Florida; her son is grown and gone and her family lets her down too often (but she keeps trying, what a massive heart she has). She said she laughed and snorted through the whole three hours.

You never know what will come from a simple post on the ‘net, do you? I think I’ll save the rest of my thoughts on that topic for another time, though – too much to tack on to the end of this one!

So, go on, what’s your embarrassing story?

Socks has a… prune?


Right, so it has come to my attention that new readers have no idea why on earth I’m talking about socks that have olives and prunes, and heartbeats!

Short version: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my weekly updates: one, two, three, and four. That will catch you up to now!


Socks had another doctor appointment this week. Doc couldn’t hear the heartbeat at first so did another ultrasound, all is good. Baby Prune had…

Ok, no, I can’t call it a prune. I just can’t. Instead, I’m going to share the nickname Socks has started using in her head: Button. I love it! When she told me her secret baby name, I sang a little bit of ‘Button, button, who’s got the button’ and made myself cry. Keerist, I’m not even the pregnant one.

Baby Button (oh, that’s better, isn’t it?) had its back to the ‘camera’ so the picture wasn’t clear. The heartbeat was visible, though, and then it did a little jump! “How awesome!”

She’s officially due June 15th. She liked the 14th better, because every older person they told immediately said, ‘Oh, Flag Day.’ Socks conjectures that Flag Day used to be a big deal at one time, because we youngins wouldn’t have a clue when it is.

You’ll be glad to know Socks is HIV and STD free, and she doesn’t have the gene for Cystic Fibrosis, so Bear doesn’t even need to be tested for it; it’s one of those diseases that needs two carriers to be passed on. Oh, she’s also not anaemic, and doesn’t have to take an iron supplement. We think it is because she eats so well and would rather get her vitamins the natural way than in a pill.

She has switched from oatmeal and yoghurt in the mornings to Wheat Chex. I found this interesting as a few weeks ago she was talking about something called ‘muddy buddies‘ on FB. It was a craving thing, and that got her started on Wheat Chex for brekky. She knows what she needs! She says that since she has always listened to her body, eating now may be easier for her. She’s still not very pukey, unlike her whole family…

…which brings me to The Quote Of The Week, a new feature in my Socks update. (Those of you who watch Harry Hill’s TV Burp, please read this new title in his voice, complete with background singers.)

“I don’t know what all you pregnant women are bitching about. This pregnancy thing is a breeeeeeeze!”

After I got done laughing my hole off, she asked that I make sure the sarcasm was clear.

She’s only gained one pound (.45 kilos), but Bear told her that she’s ‘pooched out a little.’ Button is about 1.5 inches (3.81cm) and looks more baby-shaped. “A little like an alien, but not lizardy.” Button is growing tooth-buds, knees and ankles. Socks said the book tells her that every body part and organ are pretty much formed, and from here on Button nearly doubles in size every week. Important juices are being made in the stomach and kidneys, and if it is going to be a boy, this is when the testosterone starts flowing.

Bear still hasn’t come to grips with what is going on inside his wife. She mentioned fingernails to him and he started fanning himself as if he was going to faint. Then he got all panicky over trying to figure out how he was going to teach his child ‘life lessons.’ He wants to teach the important things, without screwing the kid up. Good luck, Bear!

Oh! I nearly forgot. The doc’s office gave her her first bag of free ‘new baby!’ samples and coupons. It was a culture-shock moment for Socks. Coupons, adverts for portraits, samples of … nursing pads? Bottle inserts specifically for storing breast milk? An itty-bitty diaper with Pooh Bear on it? She is “rallying against the typical baby bullshit” and doesn’t want this rubbish. The sheer amount of strollers for sale blows her away. There’s a ‘micro movement monitor’ that will let you know if the kid so much as farts in its sleep. Why would anyone want that? When are you supposed to sleep yourself??? Bear thinks the kid just needs a rag for its face and one for its arse, which is a bit naive, but apparently it is just crazy-mad the amount of marketing that is being directed their way now.

The worst, by far, are the breast pumps. There is a version called a double pump. Yes, that’s right, a milking machine. Just walk into your stall and stand there with both tits in it until Farmer John lets you out to pasture. Fuck off! She says one at a time is okay, but both? Hell no, she’s not a damn cow. There’s even a double pump you can walk around in while wearing it. Good lord, just what you want to see in Wal-mart. (I’m freaked out by the whole idea of breast feeding, BTW. Fine for you, but the idea of me doing that makes me want to scream.)

Okay! Long one today, no wonder I put it off so long. Oh, I’ve also been asked why I named her Socks. I came up with the name years ago, because she loves long, colourful socks – striped socks, argyle socks, even toe socks – and she always, always, wore peep-toe shoes to show them off. She doesn’t always wear peep-toe anymore, but she’s made herself sleeves out of socks to wear with short-sleeve shirts. The obstetric nurse loved them, too. So there’s why she is Socks. (She promised me pics of her in the sock-sleeves. Hint hint)

Oh. I’m totally, utterly, jealous of her new Vibram FiveFingers toe shoes. In red.

Socks has a medium green olive!


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!

Socks has a (large) Raspberry!


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.