It's a Bird! It's a Plane! No - it's a - Grandma?

Last weekend we went car shopping because the week before I had watched in horror as a much-skinnier-than-me pregnant girl struggled to get out of my car with her sixth month belly.   Eventually she half-wriggled, half-tumbled out on to the pavement.

So we went to buy a new car.  Mine was only four months old so it should've been easy.  Nope.   I went through a Pontiac Torrent GXP that was very difficult to steer because - it  had no power steering.  Who makes a car in this day and age, much less an SUV without power steering!

So we sent it back. 

Then Harry gave me an Escalade to buy him a new GMC Acadia - very pretty and silver. 

When we arrived at the dealership he quickly changed his mind.  He went to go look at a white one that had "better wheels."  They looked the same to me but what did I care - I was getting the majestic Cadillac - barely used!  

His grandmother came with us and settled in to the chair across from me while Harry continued to run around the parking lot looking at vehicles like some kid in an over-priced industrial candy shop.  

I was feeling particularly horrible this day.  My hair was three days into not being washed and my eyes, even at 9:30am, were fighting to close.  My lips were red and my eyes had on a faint coat of mascara, coated by the dim lights of the bathroom.   

His grandmother looked at me with concern.  "Are you just three months along?"  she looked pointedly at my tubby tummy. 

"No, not even. More like ten weeks,"  I replied, tugging my coat closer to my waist.   

"Really?"  She drew in a sharp breath and configured a face of amazement.  "Well, you're really a gainin' aren't you?"

Suddenly, I stood up and pulled my coat off in one fail motion.  Without waiting, I flung the tiny red chair with the tiny grandmother through the plate glass window. 

I took a deep breath before answering her and came back to reality.  

"Actually, I'm exactly the same,"  I said smiling a false smile.

"REALLY?"  she said and made a show of putting on a very shocked expression.  

Suddently, I stood up and pulled my coat...  :)

Later, after we had purchased the car and dropped off the grandmother at the local river - Imean - at her house , I told Harry about it. 

"She didn't mean anything by it..."  he started.

"Yes she did!"  I squealed.  "She's no different than any other old lady out there, just like my grandmother, they tell it like it is!  Feelings be damned."  I laughed as he looked sheepish.   

Somehow, the next day I was the proud owner of a brand new white GMC Acadia with "cool wheels."   

Ya know - for the baby....

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Baby Blues

My original due date was June 13, 2008.  Friday.

My original due date was Friday the frickin' 13th!

Luckily, they have changed that and now my new date is a less scary (just labor-terrifying) June 25th.  

A few weeks ago Harry drove down to see the first ultrasound of lil' - Spawnie (for lack of a real name at this point).  I was warned the day before that this ultrasound was to be - rather invasive.  The technician walked me down the hall, told me to strip from the waist down and to pee in a cup that I would take with me to my doctor's appointment next door.   

Harry sat on the chair next to my stirruped one and I worried that he would tip over as only about a sixteenth of one of his buttcheek's was perched on it.   The technician began moving the weird wand around in my girl oraface reminding me, briefly, of my first sexual experience: pleasureless, uncomfortable and my feet were cold.  

And there he was  - little Spawnie - right on the screen. Heart beating like crazy and looking more than a little like a frog.  

I really hope that similarity goes away, otherwise grade school will be tough.   

"What is that little fluttery thing?" Harry asked, still dangling precariously on the gray seat cushion. 

"THAT'S THE HEARTBEAT!" the nurse and I yelled at him.   I expected to feel happy, shocked, pleased, or, at the very least, protective, of the tiny life that was forming inside me.  However, all I could think was "Well,  huh - it does exist... Would it be wrong to ask it to call me 'Holly' instead of - blech - 'Mama'?"  Would it be wrong if I didn't want to be a mom?  Was it too late to call a do-over?  Can I escape to Disney World and get a job painting all the "It's a Small World" People neon colors instead?   I don't think I'm ready for this.

Yet there he was - little Spawnie - beating his little heart out as if to say "Dude!  Try to ignore me!  I can hang out here for at least seven more months!"

Harry was speechless. 

I was ready to put my pants on.

In the waiting area, I held my bag with my pee while Harry gushed over the grainy black and white pictures of our baby.   I was still in shock but Harry's enthusiasm was more than a little contagious.  

And then I sprung a leak.

I sat in the waiting room holding a bag of leaky pee while others were called back in front of me.  Finally, I walked up to the window, holding the tiny white bag on a non-pee soaked corner.  "Alright - this is my pee - which one of you girls want my urine?"  A silent game of "not it!" happened between the five that were behind the counter.  Finally, one little, and not very happy chick, took my pee. 

The same non-happy nurse escorted us back to see the doctor.   Soon after, a tall man popped through the door and introduced himself as "Dr. C."

After some cordial greetings he asked me about any problems I may be having. 

"My vagina is - smelly," I blurted without even thinking.    I had noticed it soon after I found out I was pregnant - not like fishy - just odd.

Turns out I have a bacterial infection - very common in prego women like me.   He told me to eat lots of yogurt (gag!) and that it should correct itself.  

After my first pap by a male while my hubby watched from the comfort of his own chair, I was ready to go.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.  

"Well, I've been poked, made to pee in a cup, which leaked on me and I just had to ask my doctor to smell my crotch,"  I yanked on my pants with a ferver.   "I'm ready to go home."

Ah - the joys of pregancy!

What's next?  I'll gain weight and get fat?  Oh wait... 

:)

T-day Massacre

No, not really - but wouldn't that make for a great story?  Like "All was calm until Jim Bob and Bob Joe both reached for the last turkey leg..."  But that's ridiculous anyway because everyone know that rednecks (like me and mine) prefer friend chicken and ham to the "normal" T-day feast of turkey and over-processed gravy slime with the skin (oh lordy me, how I hate gravy skin!).  

However, since Harry is of a more gentile background than I, he and his little granny loaded up their Caddy's with the finest selection of perfectly roasted Turkey breasts, Cranberry chutney, stuffing mounds and even a pretty pumpkin roll and plopped it on my extra-large kitchen table for all to enjoy.  Unfortunately for Harry and his granny, I forgot to tell my sister and cousin to be on their best behavior.  So, in the middle of preparations for the feast to beat all feasts my sister, god bless her sailor-like soul, yells out "SH*T!" becuase she had either burned her hand or sliced her finger or some other minor blood-enducing event that shouldn't have caused the barrage of curses to fly from her over-glossed lips.    She meekly looked at Meme and, in her typical non-pausing speech, said "Imeandarn.  Darn!"

Later, my cousin, hell-bent on a tirade about - I don't know - tires or diamonds or some other product that he could get me " a good deal on" releaseda string of words that have not been put together since biblical times when the first cursewords were invented, or, at the very least, by Cartman on Southpark.  Luckily, Harry's grandmother is a bit hard of hearing and kept saying "What?  What did he say?"  While me and the rest of hillbilly hard-totin' fam just giggled and snorted and slapped our jean-clad knees while Harry was frozen, red-cheeked, trying not to look horrified and laughing in spite of himself.  My grandmother, on the other hand, heard every word and cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West while her eldest grandchild continued to curse like a salor-chiropractic hybrid.  

After dinner, we retired to the couches in my living room where Harry rubbed my feet and I quickly lapsed into my newly semi-permanent state of unconsciousness due to my being  - pregnant.  

HAPPY THANKSGIVING! (me with Gillian - circa 2003)

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The Little Leper That Could... Notes from a Halloween Book Club

Here is a picture from my Halloween book club where, as usual, I made too much food and had over 100 chicken nuggets left to divvy up after all was said and done.   

We read a book called "The Island" by - some chick.   It wasn't good. No - really - it was downright HORRIBLE.  Although some pretended to like it just to be nice which we all know -I'm not.   So here's my tortured review that I wrote for 'The VoiceboxX' with our group pic to follow:

   “Leprechauns?  That sounds great!  I love Irish lore!”  I exclaimed repeatedly as the girls of my book club looked on in disbelief.  I thought nothing of it, however, since they often look at me in shock (could be horror, but I like to think it’s just good ol’ fashioned shock). 

      “Holly?  I said ‘leper colony’ not ‘leprechauns’ – leper colony,” Cindy said as she held up the book.   A woman’s face looked down, her red lips slightly pursed on the cover.  The Island by Victoria Hislop tells the tale of the island of Spinalonga and its leper-filled history.

      However, the book would’ve fared better if it had actually been all about tiny green men guarding their lucky charms and pots of gold.  

      The Island was not poorly written; in fact most of theprose is beautiful and thought provoking and very intelligent.  So intelligent, in fact, that the author felt the need to triplicate every sentence, slightly changing the words so that her Webster’s thesaurus was money well spent. 

       In Hislop’s twisty tome a family is torn apart when a mother is sent to Spinalonga after being diagnosed with leprosy.  The reader is introduced to tragedy after tragedy as this debilitating disease wreaks havocs on bodies and family infrastructure alike.   Not to spoil anything for the unsuspecting reader but the book ends basically when leprosy is cured.  

      Although touted by book clubs all over, I found The Island to be depressing, predictable and over-written at times.   The parts that should have been more detailed were glazed over and the instances that should have taken just that, an instance, were detailed with such excruciating precision that I found myself wishing the characters a quick demise.  The characters tended to be one-dimensional and too many were the spitting image of their elders.  Even on small islands I am pretty sure that genetics would take over and not every beauty would bear a beauty who in turn spawned a pretty carbon copy of herself.   I had to double-check to make sure the island was, in fact, called Spinalonga and not Kinko’s.             

      The first character that the reader is introduced to by Hislop is that of Alexis, great grandchild of Eleni, the leper.  Alexis is searching to put together the pieces of her mother’s past. To be such an integral part of the story, Alexis is reduced to a whiny secondary figure who is mainly troubled by her superficial boyfriend woes.   We are not drawn into her life and care as little about her as we do about the rest of the family by the story’s end.  

      The Island by Victoria Hislop is a book about a painful, disfiguring disease that dictates a horrible time for those affected by it. 

      Unfortunately for Hislop, so is her book.   

Harsh?  Maybe  - but the book was really not something I'd wish upon my worst literal enemy!

 

I'm the one in the back, grining like an idiot since my best costume idea was a black lambskin jacket of lamb.   Tiffany, the gypsy, to my left, Summer is Beth Cooper from "I Love You Beth Cooper", followed by Melissa as "Dan" the Valedictorian from "Beth Cooper," Karen as Magdalene from "Lamb" and Krista as Maggie #2 from "Lamb."

We had a great time!  Now, I just need to find time to take down the decorations... Maybe I'll just cover the big spiders in christmas lights!   :)

 

Feline Lovin'

As much as I miss my Phoebe, I still know that I can head over to the 'rents and get some primo kitty lovin' from a 19+ year old Siamese named Silver.

Here are some grainy IPhone pics courtesy of Harry.  The paw to the cheek=pure love and annoyance!

 

 

Funk.

Wow.  Could I BE in any more of a funk as of late? Everything makes me mad, sad, livid or weepy.  And then I'm deliriously happy the next minute followed by a quick loop back to Melancholy Holly.  My only joy right now seems to be food. And sleep.   So I  have two joys.  Now - if only I could figure out how to eat in my sleep and exercise right after that way I won't have acompletely rotund physique...

Halloween came and went with Gillian, my niece, dressing up as Minnie Mouse and looking so cute in her black ears with red bows.   Summer dressed as a slut in a cape with a basket.  Or  little red riding hood.  Either way, it totally worked and should her car have broken down in the middle of Rt. 60 there would've been no reason to call me for a rescue.   

I copped out on the costume route and threw on a lambskin leather coat and went as, you guessed it, a lamb.  Yes, not very creative - or warm, in hindsight, but it worked.  :)

After the last of the ninja turtles, lego blocks, witches, fairies and Playboy bunnies (yes - it was disturbing) had dissapated we all went back in my parents home to watch some tv and look over (and pilfer) Gillian's loot.  Anytime we saw something that looked good we'd say "Ohhh -Gilly, this has nuts, I better eat it for you!"  Yes it was like taking candy from a baby and yes it was still fun.   A few mintues had passed before Summer sprang up to make her boyfriend/beau/finace a hot chocolate.   She drifted into the kitchen and a few second had passed when we heard a BANG!

And then: "OHMYGAWD, IDROPPEDTHEMILK! IDROPPEDTHEMILK!SOMEONEHELPMEIDROPPEDTHEMILK!!!"

We all stared at each and sat perfectly still as Summer's calls for help became more high-pitched.   Brian finally meandered in and got a mop.  As he dutifully began scrubbing the floor my dad walked in. 
"What's going on?  Why is the milk in the fl-"  he said and scooped up the half full gallon of milk which immediately whooshed on to the floor in a cascade of white.  

He hurried quickly out of the kitchen with Summer hot on his heels.  I could hear my sister's beau grumbling from behind the mop as the Adkins family was reunited in peals of laughter and giggles.  

It was a good night.  

 (pre-Minnie Gilly)

She's getting so big.  She'll be five this July.  FIVE! That's like - a little girl's age!  

That's all for now! Harry just got back with my Orange Soda that I was craving and a little Snickers just for me.  I'm happy now and un-funky.  But check back in five minutes. 

:)