Friday, July 17, 2009

Hands Off, Punk

I bought a personal pan pizza and breadstick meal at the gas station for lunch yesterday. Except my stomach can't fit that much food, so I ate one piece of pizza and the breadsticks with the spicy nacho cheese before warding off the heartburn.

This morning I was sitting here working on the most boring review EVER which included such things as fuel tanks and lake water, while trying to block out this elderly gentleman who had been droning on to my co-worker for the past twenty minutes about how things were done forty years ago, when I started getting dizzy.

Oh, boy. Got to eat... I know! MY LEFTOVER PIZZA!!!

I must admit I was salivating something fierce while skipping to the lunch room fridge... but 'lo and behold MY PIZZA WAS GONE!!

Every so often this guy in the office gets a cob up his butt where he throws anything and everything that isn't important to him away. As in, "I don't need it - it's gone!" Not just food, mind you, but things like files, reports, correspondence, etc. Does he ask anyone if they still need something? No. Does he consider that someone else might have a need or a use for something other than him? No. Because he is God and the world revolves around him.

Now you've got a dizzy pregnant chick who can barely fit in her pants pissed off because you chucked her food. Game on, asshole!

After lunch today God Wannabe was taking out the garbage. This was three hours AFTER I learned he had thrown my pizza away. He called out to me, "Hey! Your pizza is still in the box and wrapped in the bag you put it in if you want it... it's still good; it's not like it got garbage on it."

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Crash Test Dummy

I take a slow country road into work each day. This is a long, straight, seriously should be 55 mph but only allows you to go as fast as 35 mph kind of road. It's very important to not exceed 35 mph. I know this because I've gotten a speeding ticket along this road. Twice. But that's not the point. The point is when traveling at a speed that ridiculously slow on a long, straight country road, you have a lot of time to take in the view.

Today's view included a minivan approaching in the opposite direction. They were also going slow, which may or may not be indicitive of any speeding tickets they may have received along this particular roadway.

The view also included the farm to my right.... which happened to have a red farm truck bouncing its way up the driveway and directly out into the road.

According to my super quick calculations said farm truck would meet said minivan at the exact same time said minivan was passing the driveway, and from the way said farm truck was moving, it didn't really care about said minivan, or anyone else on the road, like me. So I stopped. And waited. And told myself to pay attention so I could make an effective witness.

Just as I envisioned minivan got closer and Farm Truck Guy continued out the driveway, into minivan's lane, causing minivan to turn sharply to the shoulder and off into the steep country ditch, narrowly missing a mailbox in its path. You never really appreciate the steepness of country ditches until there's a vehicle hanging precariously into it.

Farm Truck Guy turned out to be a kind soul, or maybe was just being nosey, because he stopped opposite me and my parked car, probably wondering what I was doing there. I calmly rolled down my window.

Farm Truck Guy was actually Extremely Old Farm Truck Guy whose mouth was missing all teeth except one unnaturally big and long tooth on the side of his mouth. I thought I heard the Deliverance banjo music playing.... yet I braved myself and politely said, "Good Morning, Sir. Did you happen to see the minivan you cut off and caused to go into the ditch?"

"What?!" Extremely Old Farm Truck Guy spat at me.

"Did you happen to see the minivan you cut off and caused to go into the ditch?" I asked again (thoroughly impressed that I could sound so polite and so cheery in spite of my personal feelings on the situation).

"I DIDN'T PUT NO VAN IN THE DITCH!" he hollered in his old, haggard, I've-been-smoking-since-I-was-eight-don't-mess-with-me-you-prissy-bitch voice. "GO TO HELL!"

And off he drove.

Well. I guess that was that.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

What the --- ?!

No one told me my crotch was going to sweat this much. Yeah, yeah, I know - waaayyy too much information. Whatever. I've got a feral chihuahua taking over my uterus - Cletus the Fetus has been hitting, kicking, and beating at me for the past three hours. Yes, three hours of me trying to come across as professional in a conference room full of egotistical males with titles and salaries that far exceed my measley portions, while my stomach contorts itself in astounding, never before seen patterns and I sweat profusely - apparently only between my thighs. I was afraid to stand up after the hour-and-a-half pow-wow; fearful they'd think my water broke.

Another joy of pregnancy that I had not experienced the first two rounds.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

From One to the Other

On a good note, Dotter's latest test results came back looking normal. No blood or proteins in the urine. Not a drop out of line. Yeah for good test results.

On the flip side, what the heck? Are we ever going to find out what's going on in that little body of hers? Or is she just to be labeled the sickly one?

Today she skipped off to school with her backpack strapped to her back, conveniently filled with a pair of sneakers, fresh pair of socks, a box of crayons and a sketchbook. On our way to school I asked her about lunch - whether they could sit anywhere or if they had assigned tables by grade. She told me they have assigned seats. She doesn't know who she sits by so it's like she sits by herself.

My heart tore in pieces. My precious, sweet, kind hearted daughter sits alone as she eats? I wanted to cry. The ironic part was she didn't think there was anything wrong with it at all. "Don't you talk to them?" I asked. She looked at me like I was missing an obvious, yet innocent point, "Why would I talk to them, Mom? I don't even know them."

My two lovely daughters, as opposite as opposite can be. Dotter sees no shame in eating quietly, enjoying her food, relaxing before the next class... The Bean wouldn't dare enter the cafeteria without friends at her side. She'd choose to go without eating than go into the cafeteria to look for where her friends are sitting.

Dotter has decided to join cheerleading. She's awkward and gangly in movements. She definately doesn't look the cheerleader part - but she loves it. Even being the worst in class she loves every single second of it. She comes home to practice - and practices seriously every single night. Unless the Bean is the absolute best in the class she won't continue. She'll quit if someone does better than her because the shame and embarrassment of being a "less than" can't be tolerated. Where Dotter continues to plow forward, the Bean will quit and give up if someone passes her by.

I love them both and wish they could only feel happiness and acceptance and huge heapings of self-worth for all the days of their lives.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Third Times the Charm

With my first pregnancy I barely gained 20 pounds. I wore my own pants until, well, pretty much until she climbed out of my vagina and introduced herself to me.

My second pregnancy I was slightly bigger. At least one would gaze upon me and ponder the possibility that there may be a child in there... or I drank a ton of beer and had a manly beer-belly. I tried to wear maternity clothes because mine didn't fit, but I ended up looking more like a haggard bag lady than a cute little pregnant woman that you see in the movies.

This pregnancy has got me beat. I'm seven months along and already weigh more than I did coming out of the Army. (Trust me: lots of exercise and lots of free food equals massive weight gain; but I swear it was all muscle.) I have gained more than my 'healthy' 25 pounds. I have leaped to a size Large in maternity pants. And I have two months left to go.

I realize now is not the time to diet, so I'm spending this afternoon googling "hip, young muu muu dresses" to see what options I have for the upcoming eight weeks....

Sunday, July 12, 2009

It's for YOU!

Satan (the dog) took a giant dump center stage in the sunroom. Couldn't miss it. Open the door, there it was. The odor nearly knocked me out. And yet there she sat, proud as can be on the other side of the dumpage as if to show me, "Look what I have for YOU!"

I sent a text to V:

"Your dog took a shit big time on the floor. Going to my mom's until it's cleaned."

I know it sounds mean... but I knew what happened... and it was confirmed hours later upon my return... see, the Big V plays ball... any and every kind of ball. Right now he's busy with three leagues of softball (and playing with golf balls on Tuesdays). Anyway, it's very important to get to the fields early, you see, so one can warm up, watch the competition, relive glory days and brag about how awesome your current team is and how you're going to dominate the league. One needs to arrive at least an hour and a half before game time - if you're serious about ball, that is. So, V was in a hurry... and, as he explained, he just didn't have time to let the dog out. Priorities, you know.

(Oh, yes, I was very glad I left it for him...)