Well sweetie (In that patronizing Mommy voice), your Daddy's a lawyer and he has conversations like these on a daily basis.
Client: I want a trial!
Me: We have no evidence or theory to disprove the State's case. A trial is not in your best interest.
Client: Still, I want a trial. I want my day in court.
Me: It will be a bad day.
Client: *Snicker* Maybe for you, but not for me.
Me: You realize at the end of that day, I will be going home and you will go to prison.
Client: How come I have to go to prison?
Me: Because the state can prove that you committed a crime.
Client: Well, disprove it.
Me: We have no EVIDENCE!
Client: Why should that stop you?
Me: *Sigh* (to myself) And I applied for this job.
How my Recycling Can Wheel Was Stolen, and How I Got it Back
This is, I swear, all true, despite the surreal nature of the whole thing.
On Monday (trash day), for the first time, I put out my brand new, supplied by my garbage company for a mere $2 per month, industrial-trash-can-sized recycling bin. It is green. In it, I may place all of my recycling, mixed up, with no sorting whatsoever (woo-hoo!).
Later that morning, as I was preparing Sara's lunch, I glanced out the window and noticed a pickup truck slowing in front of the house. Moments later, a man got out and, as he appeared to be heading toward our door, stopped and picked up something from the grass. Another glance a moment later confirmed he was headed for our front door, where, in extremely broken English, he asked if I needed mulch and handed me a card. Although I didn't need mulch, and said as much, I did take the card.
Fast forward about 10 minutes.
Noticing the diapers needed taking out to the trash can, I decided to combine the trip with the necessary chore of dragging both the trash and recycling cans up from the curb. There was only one small problem.
The recycling can was missing a wheel.
" ahh" I thought. That thing the man picked up was a wheel. Well, maybe he placed it in the trash can.
Nope.
In the recycling can?
Nope. In the grass or flowerbeds somewhere near the house?
Nada.
So, I return inside, find the card, and call the number scrawled on it in nearly illegible, running-out-of-ink ballpoint pen. What I get on the other end sounds like a conversation in Spanish between two people who have accidentally left their cell phone on without realizing it. All of my shouting "hello!" "OLA!" into the phone is to no avail. I dial again. I get the SAME Spanish conversation, and realize it must be a recording.
While I am listening, a caller beeps in on call waiting, and when I answer it, it's mulch guy! Yeah!
Except, he has no idea what I'm saying when I ask about the wheel. He doesn't understand English.
After much shouting (like THAT'S gonna help with comprehension) and the use of the words "mulch" and "house", I get him to agree to come back, and give him the address. 10 minutes later, he pulls up and I'm waiting out front. I ask about the wheel.
Nothing.
I point to the recycling bin with no wheel and make round motions with my hand.
He says "trash?"
I say "where is it?"
He walks to the back of his truck, pulls out my wheel, and hands it to me.
I put it back on the recycling bin. He drives away.
On Monday (trash day), for the first time, I put out my brand new, supplied by my garbage company for a mere $2 per month, industrial-trash-can-sized recycling bin. It is green. In it, I may place all of my recycling, mixed up, with no sorting whatsoever (woo-hoo!).
Later that morning, as I was preparing Sara's lunch, I glanced out the window and noticed a pickup truck slowing in front of the house. Moments later, a man got out and, as he appeared to be heading toward our door, stopped and picked up something from the grass. Another glance a moment later confirmed he was headed for our front door, where, in extremely broken English, he asked if I needed mulch and handed me a card. Although I didn't need mulch, and said as much, I did take the card.
Fast forward about 10 minutes.
Noticing the diapers needed taking out to the trash can, I decided to combine the trip with the necessary chore of dragging both the trash and recycling cans up from the curb. There was only one small problem.
The recycling can was missing a wheel.
" ahh" I thought. That thing the man picked up was a wheel. Well, maybe he placed it in the trash can.
Nope.
In the recycling can?
Nope. In the grass or flowerbeds somewhere near the house?
Nada.
So, I return inside, find the card, and call the number scrawled on it in nearly illegible, running-out-of-ink ballpoint pen. What I get on the other end sounds like a conversation in Spanish between two people who have accidentally left their cell phone on without realizing it. All of my shouting "hello!" "OLA!" into the phone is to no avail. I dial again. I get the SAME Spanish conversation, and realize it must be a recording.
While I am listening, a caller beeps in on call waiting, and when I answer it, it's mulch guy! Yeah!
Except, he has no idea what I'm saying when I ask about the wheel. He doesn't understand English.
After much shouting (like THAT'S gonna help with comprehension) and the use of the words "mulch" and "house", I get him to agree to come back, and give him the address. 10 minutes later, he pulls up and I'm waiting out front. I ask about the wheel.
Nothing.
I point to the recycling bin with no wheel and make round motions with my hand.
He says "trash?"
I say "where is it?"
He walks to the back of his truck, pulls out my wheel, and hands it to me.
I put it back on the recycling bin. He drives away.
Fun Pregnancy Symptoms
For a while now, I've been counting how many pregnancy symptoms I haven't experienced - it's a shorter list than counting the ones that I have experienced. There are all kinds of fun things to experience, like morning sickness, leg cramps, (permanently) bigger feet, swollen ankles, etc.
Anyway, here is my new, updated list of pregnancy symptoms that I have not had the pleasure of experiencing yet:
Anyway, here is my new, updated list of pregnancy symptoms that I have not had the pleasure of experiencing yet:
34 weeks and counting...
Two not-so-startling realizations:
1. As much as being pregnant sucks (well, it does.), this baby is a lot easier to take care of on the inside than he will be when he's on the outside.
2. Um. Hm. There was a second thing, but I've forgotten it. No one who has had a conversation with me recently should be surprised by this.
Happy Friday, everyone.
1. As much as being pregnant sucks (well, it does.), this baby is a lot easier to take care of on the inside than he will be when he's on the outside.
2. Um. Hm. There was a second thing, but I've forgotten it. No one who has had a conversation with me recently should be surprised by this.
Happy Friday, everyone.
The Hunting of the Snark
or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Republican Party
Judges Cite Nonsense Poem in Guantanomo Case
There is also a chapter in Alice in Wonderland in which the Knave of Hearts is on trial for having stolen the tarts, and a nonsense poem (a parody of a then-contemporary poem) is introduced into evidence against the Knave. It is purported that the Knave wrote it; the Knave denies writing it, says it isn't in his handwriting, and notes that no name is signed as the author. The King takes this as incontrovertible proof of the Knave's deceit and, therefore, his guilt.
We are the new Victorians: we see evidence where there is none, and declare the end of theoretical science, as if we had somehow reached the end of discovery.
Judges Cite Nonsense Poem in Guantanomo Case
There is also a chapter in Alice in Wonderland in which the Knave of Hearts is on trial for having stolen the tarts, and a nonsense poem (a parody of a then-contemporary poem) is introduced into evidence against the Knave. It is purported that the Knave wrote it; the Knave denies writing it, says it isn't in his handwriting, and notes that no name is signed as the author. The King takes this as incontrovertible proof of the Knave's deceit and, therefore, his guilt.
We are the new Victorians: we see evidence where there is none, and declare the end of theoretical science, as if we had somehow reached the end of discovery.
More Things I Have Learned
9 months is a long time, until it's not.
If I asked you what your plans were for next March, what would you say? Too far ahead to think about, right? I felt that way back in December: 9 months is a long time.
At 4 weeks, Mr. B and I felt like 8 weeks was FOREVER to wait to tell people. And I think being constantly sick made the time go by kind of slowly.
At 12 weeks, another two months to find out the gender seemed like FOREVER. August still seemed far away, and I was (for some reason) eagerly anticipating "showing."
Finding out that the alien growing inside me was a boy made things a little more "real." But still, I was only halfway through this thing, and it was (barely) spring - late summer was still FOREVER to wait.
Now? We've seen our first 100-degree days, so summer is here. The list of "Things To Do Before The Kid Shows Up" hasn't gotten much shorter, and yet my google countdown keeps on ticking (64 days!). Suddenly we have a childbirth class and a meeting with the pediatrician and a tour of the maternity ward scheduled and a guess-the-date-and-weight game in the works and a lot of cleaning to do to satisfy my nesting instinct and holy cow this is really only two months away...
If I asked you what your plans were for next March, what would you say? Too far ahead to think about, right? I felt that way back in December: 9 months is a long time.
At 4 weeks, Mr. B and I felt like 8 weeks was FOREVER to wait to tell people. And I think being constantly sick made the time go by kind of slowly.
At 12 weeks, another two months to find out the gender seemed like FOREVER. August still seemed far away, and I was (for some reason) eagerly anticipating "showing."
Finding out that the alien growing inside me was a boy made things a little more "real." But still, I was only halfway through this thing, and it was (barely) spring - late summer was still FOREVER to wait.
Now? We've seen our first 100-degree days, so summer is here. The list of "Things To Do Before The Kid Shows Up" hasn't gotten much shorter, and yet my google countdown keeps on ticking (64 days!). Suddenly we have a childbirth class and a meeting with the pediatrician and a tour of the maternity ward scheduled and a guess-the-date-and-weight game in the works and a lot of cleaning to do to satisfy my nesting instinct and holy cow this is really only two months away...
The Basement (Parts 175-184)
Yes, 6 months later, we're finally almost done with the basement. We've been a little busy...
We installed the 5 cabinet doors we were waiting on, 4 on the corner cabinets at the bottom of the stairs and 1 over the electrical box (175-179) and assembled the shower (180). Assembling the shower, by the way, was about 63 steps all by itself, and took 4 people with at least 7 or 8 degrees.
In case I never blog about it, the final parts that are left: putting up a towel rack (181), finishing the bottom edge of the back door (182), hang up pictures (183), and bring home the baby (184). That is, after all, why we started this project... :-)
We installed the 5 cabinet doors we were waiting on, 4 on the corner cabinets at the bottom of the stairs and 1 over the electrical box (175-179) and assembled the shower (180). Assembling the shower, by the way, was about 63 steps all by itself, and took 4 people with at least 7 or 8 degrees.
In case I never blog about it, the final parts that are left: putting up a towel rack (181), finishing the bottom edge of the back door (182), hang up pictures (183), and bring home the baby (184). That is, after all, why we started this project... :-)
Congratulations John!
Hoo! Hoo!
Way to go, man. We're proud of you.
I wish I could say the sleepless nights are over, but, well, yeah. :)
Way to go, man. We're proud of you.
I wish I could say the sleepless nights are over, but, well, yeah. :)
Do We STILL Have to Claim West Virginia?
Seriously, can't they secede from the U.S. or something?
I was listening to NPR yesterday (the other car, with XM, was in the shop) and caught a little tidbit about the role race played in the primary in West Virginia (or, West Virgina, if you please). You can listen to it for yourself, but here's the interesting parts [with some sarcasm for your enjoyment]:
"Hillary Clinton's overwhelming victory over Barack Obama in West Virginia has revived a common question this primary season: How race influences voters decisions.
"One in five white West Virginia voters said race helped determine their choice.
"On Tuesday, we asked West Virginians who they voted for, and why, as they left the polls. We heard a lot of this:
One word: WOW!
I was listening to NPR yesterday (the other car, with XM, was in the shop) and caught a little tidbit about the role race played in the primary in West Virginia (or, West Virgina, if you please). You can listen to it for yourself, but here's the interesting parts [with some sarcasm for your enjoyment]:
"Hillary Clinton's overwhelming victory over Barack Obama in West Virginia has revived a common question this primary season: How race influences voters decisions.
"One in five white West Virginia voters said race helped determine their choice.
"On Tuesday, we asked West Virginians who they voted for, and why, as they left the polls. We heard a lot of this:
"I don't want Obama in there. I don't like his background. They're putting the man in because of his race. And I don't, uh, I'm not ready for that." -Gene Morris [you're right, because the best thing a black person has going for them in this country, and your state, is his race]"They're all West Virginians who voted in Tuesday's primary. We should add that none of them were asked specifically about race."
"Mr. Obama doesn't have much of a chance here because they will not vote for a black man in West Virginia. And they can't stand the thoughts of a black man telling a white man what to do." -Joetta Koon [she actually gets it]
"Whether he is a Muslim, uh, I guess he's not, I guess it's just everything that's going on in the Middle East; a little scary being unknown." -Thomas Caldwell [um, he's not Muslim, as if it matters, and the only unknown in this equation is what's taking up the space between your two ears]
"You know I didn't vote for no colored. [laughing]" -Morris King [yep, we know]
One word: WOW!
Journalists Are Not Mathematicians
Sick-Leave Abuse Prompts Calls to Compensate for Unused Time
"For weeks that had a holiday falling on a Monday, 27 percent of all sick leave at the IRS was taken on a Tuesday in 2005 and 2006, the report said. And 24 percent of all sick leave taken by IRS employees during non-holiday weeks was on a Monday. "
Now, I can't even decipher what the first sentence means. But for the second sentence: Well, if it were just random chance, you would expect that 20% of all sick leave would be on a Monday - and 20% on Tuesday, and 20% on Wednesday, and 20% on Thursday, and 20% on Friday. So 24% doesn't seem that out of line to me...
"For weeks that had a holiday falling on a Monday, 27 percent of all sick leave at the IRS was taken on a Tuesday in 2005 and 2006, the report said. And 24 percent of all sick leave taken by IRS employees during non-holiday weeks was on a Monday. "
Now, I can't even decipher what the first sentence means. But for the second sentence: Well, if it were just random chance, you would expect that 20% of all sick leave would be on a Monday - and 20% on Tuesday, and 20% on Wednesday, and 20% on Thursday, and 20% on Friday. So 24% doesn't seem that out of line to me...
What Else They Don't Tell You
Well, they kinda tell you...when you're pregnant, all of your other internal organs get squished. Your bladder is squished and you have to pee all the time, ha ha, right?
But no, seriously, they all get squished. Space is at a premium, so there are trade-offs: if, for example, you eat a large meal, then you can't breathe. And there is very little wiggle room (literally): when the kid kicks, he's likely to strike the bladder, ribs, stomach, and all kinda of fun stuff. And I imagine that the internal-organs-as-punching-bags phenomenon is only going to get worse...
Yes, it's all worth it. But it's WEIRD.
But no, seriously, they all get squished. Space is at a premium, so there are trade-offs: if, for example, you eat a large meal, then you can't breathe. And there is very little wiggle room (literally): when the kid kicks, he's likely to strike the bladder, ribs, stomach, and all kinda of fun stuff. And I imagine that the internal-organs-as-punching-bags phenomenon is only going to get worse...
Yes, it's all worth it. But it's WEIRD.
What They Don't Tell You
Ok, there are a lot of things that no one tells you about being pregnant. But what's really odd is this: you feel the kid move. All the time. It's not just that sometimes the kid kicks and you can feel it - no, you're sitting at your desk, and he's moving. You're walking to your car, and he's moving. You're in a meeting, in the shower, watching TV, trying to sleep, having a conversation, doing dishes - and he's moving. Kicking, squirming, poking. Imagine someone following you around for four months or so, poking you in the stomach. Except that you love this person a lot, so it's not as annoying as you'd think.
It's weird. It's cool, but it's really really weird. That's all.
It's weird. It's cool, but it's really really weird. That's all.
The results are in...
We had our 22-week ultrasound on Monday, and from the weird and alien images, it appears to be a healthy, growing, perfect little boy!
Stuff that you can't make up.
"I check their underpants to ensure there is only one penis."
And this one gets a big "That's what she said."
And this one gets a big "That's what she said."
Amaryllis
The bulb that spawned this beautiful flower was in a bag that was sitting in the corner of our kitchen next to out sliding glass door. It had been there for at least four months. This was growing out of the bag. Lots of sun and no water...
Drill
I have had my first drill since I was sent off to learn the law of the military and it could not have been more exciting. Many things have changed, many have stayed the same, and I am stuck in the middle with you (sorry, I couldn't resist).
Whoa, we're halfway there...
20 weeks today!
(Yep, Livin' On A Prayer is stuck in my head. Figured I'd put it in everyone else's heads as well. Sorry.)
(Yep, Livin' On A Prayer is stuck in my head. Figured I'd put it in everyone else's heads as well. Sorry.)
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