The Rocky Horror Show

Topic #1 of Things I've Been Meaning to Write About

BEFORE


AFTER


Let's just say I think I've outgrown The Rocky Horror [and Picture] Show.

Let's also just say that old age has turned me into a prude.

Let's also add that OH MY GOODNESS DID YOUR MOTHER SEE YOU WALKING OUT OF THE HOUSE DRESSED LIKE THAT?

But let's also be fair and say the singing and acting was very good.

But let's also add that the music for the show is just quite frankly terrible.

But let's be fair and add that the 'Time Warp' is actually still quite fun to pelvic thrust to.

Will Post For Food

Not really, but just wanted to pop in and say hi to all my adoring readers blah blah blah and also say that I've got like three or four topics in my head ready to be blogged but not so much the time to do it so this weekend maybe I'll take a break and write some stuffs.

In the meantime, I'm 16 1/2 weeks pregnant and my tummy is starting to look yummy, but my back HOLY COW MY BACK and my ribcage too are in so much excruciating pain that Scott and I only drove as far as Glasgow City Centre on our way to Edinburgh to see Imogen Heap last night before I finally caved and admitted I couldn't go another five or so hours with the pain and we turned around and came home (where I had Scott turn on the hot water for a hot bath but then fell into such a deep sleep that when he tried to get me in the bath I snapped at him and groaned and grumbled and quite possibly punched him.)

I'm now off to the dentist for a 'clean and polish' before heading into work. Short work day, hurray! (And I'm taking my lovely squishy, vibrating lumbar pillow with me to help me make it to 4.30 in those blasted uncomfortable office chairs.)

How Did YOU Find Us?

On a topic much less intense (though the previous topic is still very heavy on my mind - and it didn't help that I researched the Morgan Nick story today, being reminded that abductions occur in my home state), Scott just showed me how to view our web stats through our web host. I've been using web stats through some free site, but Internet Explorer users kept getting pop-ups which we assumed were Haloscan-related but continued even after we left Haloscan in favour of Blogger comments (which I finally got working the way we want) and ANYWAY now I know how to use our host's web stats, and they are so much more informative! For instance, the following key phrases drew visitors to our site this month:

bionic nose
cowboy love
love of a cowboy
coo pat chocolate made in scotland
hostlings fleece pouch
wanted tortilla chips
feeding a baby with ur boobs
my dirty wife
hea a a a a art
american pickle statistics
party line how to call

and my two favourites:
greenock porn
hard spankings.


And how exactly did YOU find us? (Please please please someone tell me it was the hard spankings.)

My Terror of Kidnappers

I've recently gotten sucked into the recent news stories surrounding the new developments in the long unsolved mystery of the murder of JonBenet Ramsey - and this has been very unhealthy for me.

Even though her story is one of murder and not true kidnapping, it is too closely linked to two of my greatest fears (I'm even considering them phobias, except phobias are illegitimate fears): intruders and kidnappers. Since I've become older (to an unkidnappable age) the fear of kidnappers has died down, and since moving to Greenock, I've become a bit more mature and logical about the very real possibility of intruders to the point that I am less afraid and more prepared. But the JonBenet headlines have reawoken my latent fears.

Ever since I was a very small child, I have had this very genuine fear - maybe I'll call it a terror - of intruders and/or kidnappers. I don't have any recollection of why this subject in particular was of such a terrifying nature to me (and I really do mean terrifying, to the point of an obsessive and crippling paranoia that interrupted many daily activities - most of all, sleeping.) My parents were aware of my terror of these subjects. Our family used to gather around the television every Tuesday night to watch Rescue 911 and Unsolved Mysteries; yet, if an episode were going to deal with intruders or kidnappings, my parents warned me so I could leave the room until it was over.

So I'm not sure how I managed to see the made-for-TV film I Know My First Name is Steven. Perhaps my parents wanted me to see it for very real educational purposes. Maybe I just walked in on it while my parents watched it. It came out in '89 so, assuming I saw it when it first aired, I would've been only seven. Yet this film has stuck with me my entire life.

All I could remember about it was that a young boy had been kidnapped and raised by someone else for many, many years until at some point he uttered the phrase "I know my name is Steven". (He actually said his "first name" was Steven.) I also remember the utter fear that gripped me as I tried to sleep that night.

While reading up on the JonBenet stories that are currently recirculating, I remembered this film and decided to look it up. It was easier to find than I expected, and I've learned a bit more detail about the story. (Thankfully the sexual abuse content of the true story of Steven Stayner went over my head at that tender age of seven or so. Though it hits me very hard now.) I decided after reading review after review of how important this film is for parents to watch, that I would order the book off amazon.co.uk.

This may have been a very unwise decision on my part. Yes, I am technically an adult now, and I am about to be a parent. But I don't believe my unhealthy obsession with fearing kidnappers is exactly the right preparation for how to handle teaching my kids about strangers. The last thing I want to do is instill the same terror of strangers in my kids that left me unable to sleep at night and produced nightmare after nightmare of burgulars in our hallway or kidnappers peeping in my window.

Plus, I think one thing that the passage of time does to us is lessen the negativity and sincerity of many of our previous experiences. We tend to look at our pasts with more acceptance and perhaps less seriousness in hindsight. I know I tend to lessen the reality of negative things in my past by assuming I'd just been overdramatic or too 'in-the-moment' to really see the truth. So because of this, I may very well think that my fear of kidnappers was so overexaggerated that teaching your kids 'Don't talk to strangers' is a bit pointless and silly. But the truth is, it is not.

I remember very specifically one frightful afternoon when I was quite young - nine or ten at the oldest. We lived out in the middle of nowhere at the time across from my grandparents. The only thing separating our yard from theirs was their cow fields. In distance, the fields were probably no more than two or three acres, so we often crawled through the barbed wire fences and cut straight across the fields in order to see them.

However, if the cows were out, we would have to take the road. The road was a quiet, lazy country road with very little traffic. We were also surrounded by relatives; at one point, not only were our grandparents across the field, but one aunt and uncle lived at the top of our long driveway and another aunt and uncle lived at the top of the driveway and across the road. Several of the houses along the road in between were owned by my grandpa. So I can perfectly see why my parents believed we were quite safe. I myself can see that we were quite safe. I also think maybe my irrational terror of intruders and kidnappers had to be quietened a bit by my parents as I remember them telling me all the time that we were 'too far out to be bothered'. And whether they told me this because they believed it or to help calm my fears, I don't know, but they were probably quite correct. At any rate, I naturally hated taking the road, especially alone, because the road involved possible strangers. I'd usually run along the road until I got to my grandparents long driveway, or I'd pray the whole way down the road, or I'd try to think of other things until I was off the road. But rarely did I let my guard down while I was on the road.

So on this particular day, the cows were out and I wanted to go to my grandparents house. I don't know where my brothers were, but for some reason I was on my own. As usual, I tried to forget the fact that I was on the road where strangers might be, but that day I couldn't forget. Because as I was walking, an old beat-up car pulled over to the side of the road and a man rolled down his window to talk to me.

He said something to the effect of "Hello, Miss, can you give me directions to the gun shop?"

I was quite literally paralysed with terror. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind, the most urgent one being "RUN RUN RUN!!!!!!" and the second most urgent one being "IF YOU RUN HE MIGHT GRAB YOU!" I backed away from the road as close to the fence as I could and tried to respond in a not-afraid manner.

"I do not know where that is", I responded as I backed further away from the direction his vehicle was facing. GUN SHOP?! the voice in my head screamed. HE WANTS A GUN!

I don't remember what else happened, if he asked another question or let it be. I just remember inching away away away and trying to be as not-afraid-looking as possible. He finally drove off. I ran for my life.

I was understandably genuinely shaken by this experience. Yet thinking back to that day, I now tend to soften the memory by thinking things like, He probably really was looking for a gun shop, not a little blonde girl to kidnap. I had no real reason to be so scared. What's the likelihood that he actually stopped to see if I'd get close enough for him to grab and throw in the backseat?

Until I started reading all this Steven Stayner and JonBenet Ramsey stuff.

On the livesecure.org website, there is a list of safety tips for parents and children. It talks about the most common lures a kidnapper will use to get a child to trust him - looking for a missing pet, giving or promising candy, threatening to harm family members, asking for directions.

I'm an adult now. I'm also an overdramatic drama queen, I won't deny this. But those words sent a cold shiver throughout my body when I came across them. Asking for directions. I began to wonder (with the same old terror rising back up into my heart) what if...

There's no sense in enumerating the 'what ifs' because they are pretty obvious. But the biggest one was, What if my unnatural terror of kidnappers saved my life that day?

And as a child, I just didn't want to be kidnapped and raised by strangers. As an adult, I am far too aware of the other, more realistic, dangers that accompany kidnappings.

This topic terrifies me. I hate it. But it's a real thing that happens to real people, so to what extent should I concern myself with it? Will reading this book only bring back the nightmares and paranoia of my childhood? Will it enlighten me as to practical ways of preventing this from happening to my own family? Will I wake up in the middle of the night and be totally convincned someone is in my house to the extent of calling the police? (That's a rather humorous - though not at the time - story that I'll tell another day, when I don't feel so intense and serious.)

I don't really know. But I think this fear must be confronted, if only for sake of teaching my kids proper stranger safety. I'll have nightmares the rest of my life, as long as it means I am able to teach my kids to be safe - and they stay safe.

Pretty Dress Part 2: This Time It's Edinburgh

I'm back from lunch and shall resume where I left off:

SO (the dress did turn out to be mine, plus the other dress and top so whew! New clothes!) the most important thing about this dress is - wait for it....


It gives me a bump! I'm 15 weeks today, and this is all I have to show for it.

Nextly, I was going to go all into detail about my trip to Edinburgh yesterday, but Scott and I rented two films (The Squid and the Whale and Lucky Number Slevin) and I'd rather go watch them than blog.

So check out my flickr and see us being afraid - being vedddddy afraid - in the Edinburgh Dungeon. And this comes with a PROMISE - and not an empty promise - to show you the AWESOME picture we purchased at the end. For £6. For £6 + the awesomeness of the picture + the sentimental value of actually having the picture after our first version from long ago dating days 'mysteriously' disappeared, you can guarantee I will be making the effort to scan it in and show it to the world.

Pretty Dress (I Think It's Mine)

My mum-in-law went to a huge NEXT sale (Next/NEXT - don't know if it's caps or not - is a great but kinda pricey store, IMO) and came back with a few things for me. She told me to come by the house and have a look to see if I liked them. She said if she wasn't there when I came by, she'd leave them hanging over a chair in the dining room. I came over, but she wasn't there so I went to look at what was on the chair. Hmm... There were two chairs with two different sets of clothes on them. Both had a dress and a top, which is what she said she'd gotten me. I couldn't figure out if one set was for me and the other set was for someone else, my sister-in-law, for example. So I just guessed. The dress I guessed was for me is EXCELLENT. I LOVE it. I guessed it was mine, because a) it looks kinda maternity-friendly and b) it's not exactly Katie's style sooo... I took that set. The shirt was nice, too, though I haven't worn it yet. It's pretty maternity-friendly as well (it's a kinda wrap thing with a tie in the front). I wore my new pretty dress to church.


(Though this photo bears no resemblence to the fact, I've actually started wearing make-up again and thinking about how my hair looks. This MUST mean I'm in my second trimester. Oh and this is the 'nursery' or The Beginning Stages...)

I love the embroidery/beadwork. It's so... Spanish?



.....

Scott's making me leave. I'll post my Edinburgh Festival pictures when I get back from lunch. Meanwhile, admire my dress (if it is indeed mine).

Plan De Jour

It's 10.17 on Saturday morning. The Plan: Get up at 9, shower, clean bedroom, make lunch, go to Edinburgh.

The Reality: Got up at 7, read news articles on the JonBenet Ramsey story until 10, showered, got back in bed to blog.

I ate a dark chocolate ginger biscuit during that time too.

Still need to clean bedroom, get dressed (important!), make lunch and go to Edinburgh. Gonna meet Michaela and see the Ron Mueck exhibit. Need to check the weather, too, cause it's POURING our way.

What's for lunch? Yummy pasta.

Gratz in Order

DING!

Let me just take the spotlight off of MEMEMEMEMEMEME for one second or two and direct everyone over to Kristen's blog to congratulate her and Joshua on their new baby boy! This baby was a LONG time coming as you'll see if you read down the page a few posts. Congratulations, Kristen, Joshua and Judah (and the rest of the Rudd/Treadwell crew) on your lovely new baby.

Gratz!

Post For the Mummies - Men Beware - Baby Stuff Talk Forthwith

Today was a day from Hades at work, but I'm so annoyed about it I don't even feel like ranting. I ranted to approximately four people already today, and I'm simply exhausted.

So to make up for my day from Hades, I spent the entire afternoon (which was only two hours due to my late lunch) making a "Scott and Lori's Baby-Wants" spreadsheet. (In reality, it's just a "Lori's Baby-Wants" spreadsheet, and also I started it yesterday.) I get very overly-organised when I start these kinds of spreadsheets and usually end up having to display the page in landscape because I add so many columns they will not fit onto one page in the portrait layout. So far, my spreadsheet columns consist of:

Category (ie, Bedding, Nursery Furniture and Decor, Feeding, Travel, Toys & Entertainment, etc)
Item
Where To Find
Price
Quantity
Style/Size/Other
"Life" Expectancy (ie, will it be useful for more than one child? Is it useful to more than one parent? For how long? Etc.)
and Need or Want (Scott pointed out that nearly everything is a "Need", but dude, lots of things are! Like a cot, a cot mattress, a bottle steriliser and breast pump, etc.)

This spreadsheet is also colour-coordinated for easier viewing.

Since I never got to have a wedding registry (and oh how disappointing that was!) and since registries are still considered rather tacky here in GB, this is sort of my redeeming chance. If people wonder what to get for us, this list will be very handy (I think). And it's good for me because I'm so incredibly picky when it comes to stuff (I research and read reviews and talk to people until I am certain of exactly which brand and model is perfect) that hopefully this will avoid my getting Avent bottles instead of Tommee Tippee and so forth.

The biggest category on the list that excites me is the "Baby-Wearing" category. I baby-wearing. Sarah introduced me to the world of slings, and now I've gone bananas. I found about seven different kinds of pouches, slings and carriers that I LOVED but have managed to cut my desires down to five carriers in particular.

The podaegi (Korean blanket carrier):


The EllaRoo Lightly Padded Ring Sling:


The Hotslings Deluxe Pool Pouch:


The mei tai (Chinese baby carrier):


and the ever-famous BABYBJÖRN Baby Carrier Air:


The mei tai or the BABYBJÖRN would be for Scott, as he facies carrying the baby like a backpack, though it looks like the BABYBJÖRN must be worn on the front only. The podaegi, the ring sling, the pool pouch, and oh, let's be honest, the mei tai too, would be for me because they are all so cool.

Other items that are totally rocking my world:
* **

Sigh. Stuff.

*The Pollywog nursing pillow was highly recommended on VeryMom's website. I purchased one for my friend Devon, and she loves it. It helps promote good digestion in infants, and Devon says it reduces her baby's gassiness by, like, a lot.
**I don't believe women should have to get all cover-up-the-nursing-breasts-oh-my-goodness-or-you'll-look-like-a-hussy, and I certainly don't intend to hide in a dark corner any time my baby wants to nurse. However, since I know some people are dead uncomfortable with nursing boobies (and, like, seriously, dude, give me a break, it's what they are THERE FOR), I think this nursing cover is as sweet a nursing cover you can come by. It's lightweight so baby doesn't overheat, and it's got that gaping hole at the top for you to keep an eye on the babe. I think I'd like one just for when, you know, the pastor comes over or my grandpa, who might be a bit uncomfortable with my nipples, is around. Or when I'm out and about in places where I know people will get all SLUT-UR-FEEDING-UR-BABY-WITH-UR-BOOBS-GROSS-MUST-COVER-HUSBAND'S-EYES on me. But then again, maybe not.

4.36am and counting

Yes, it's so disturbingly early.

I was awoken by a text from a friend saying we should drive to Dunfermline tomorrow instead of taking the train. (I'm going to Dunfermline tomorrow - er, today.) I should've nodded and rolled back over, but my brain went into overdrive. What if it takes longer to drive, and we don't give ourselves time? What if it's really tough directions? What if the train is the better option? So there I was, 3.28am with the gears churning in my head, and I was awake.

Thank goodness for my laptop and my neighbour's wireless internet.

I spent the last 45 minutes drawing an intricate map and copying down the Google Maps directions word-for-word and texting back and forth with my insomniac friend.

Then I started reading blogs. Because, you know, it's only around 9-11pm in the States and so people have probably posted since I last checked.

And then VeryMom wrote a post (gosh, I'm so glad she's back!) that reminded me of a story so blah blah blah 4.42 and here I go.

I used to go to Supercuts for my hair. (Yes, I know, throw all your hairbrushes and straightening irons right at my face, I deserved anything that came to me.) And it's worth mentioning I had SHORT pixie-cut hair (very little photographic evidence exits, funnily enough, just pictures of it growing out). So, you know, probably would've been worth paying money for a proper cut.

But this story isn't so much about the cut, as the Lori-has-a-total-mean-streak-that-gets-her-into-a-lot-of-trouble-sometimes story.

So Amanda and I walk in. Because Supercuts takes walk-ins, which is how you know they are quality. There are two girls working. One is cutting a man's hair, the other is, I don't know, twiddling her thumbs or trying to fix her undershave or something. At any rate, we are not acknowledged. After a ridiculous amount of time on a man's cut, the other woman finishes her "client"'s hair and takes Amanda back for her shampoo. The other girl wanders to the back and doesn't return. I become annoyed. I wait. I check the clock. Amanda starts getting styled. The other girl doesn't return.

45 minutes pass.

Finally, as Amanda is getting blow-dried, the other woman emerges from her black hole. She looks at me: "Are you ready?" Angry, absolutely furious, I am. I respond, "Well, I was ready 45 minutes ago. Now I am no longer interested in getting my hair cut, thank you very much." The woman kind of shrugs and goes back into the back. Amanda's stylist asks Amanda to wait a moment and follows her back.

Five minutes later, a man comes racing into the "salon" and darts into the back. Then I hear sirens. Then two paramedics arrive. They carry the woman out on a stretcher. The man is petrified. Everyone in the salon (now, me, Amanda, her stylist and a few other women who overheard my little tantrum) is staring at each other, all wide-eyed and concerned. The ambulance speeds away, and Amanda asked her stylist if she knew what happened. Yes. Apparently she'd just gone into premature labour.

Premature labour?! She didn't even look pregnant! (She was a bit of a bigger girl though, so I guess maybe we just couldn't tell.) The stylist mentioned (pointedly?) that she'd been in the back all that time with really sharp pains.

Amanda thanked and paid her stylist. We left the salon. And yes, the whole time we talked about what a total jerk I am. I never went back.

4.59.

The Bionic Pregnant Nose

So it's come to this.

I literally can't take it anymore.

Not only am I sick of smelling everything under the sun (I think I can even smell the sun), but I really just cannot live with the smell of cat any longer.

What do I do?? The 'easy' answer is find them a new happy home, but OH MY GOSH I LOVE THEM TOO MUCH. I just love them. They are so affectionate right now - I seriously think they know I'm pregnant - and they are so lovely and I love them. BUT HOLY CRAP they are taking over my home. I can't even go downstairs anymore without holding my breath. I can't sit on the couch with Scott and watch movies because THE CATS ARE STINKING UP THE UNIVERSE.

Has anyone else had this kind of experience? Anyone know of a solution? Anyone want two very lovely and adorable cats who don't smell unless you are pregnant? Anyone?

Life of the Party...Line!

Does anyone else remember having a party line? Or were we just rural?

Looking back, party lines were so inconvenient, but at the time, I suppose we never thought anything of it as it was just how it was. But I do remember the serious inconvenience of being eleven and NEEDING to call Cristen and picking up the phone just to hear, not a dialtone, but two old ladies discussing vacuum cleaners. I suppose it could not have been very convenient for those old ladies to have to share a party line with a chatty eleven year old, but that hardly came to my mind.

I remember the odd times when someone on the party line would interrupt a conversation because of an emergency call needing to be made. I don't recall my ever having that problem, since I only had to dial 911 in my life and I'm pretty sure I got straight through without having to interrrupt someone's burnt carrot cake disaster story, but I do seem to recall my conversations being interrupted once or twice. Could it be because I'd been on the phone for four hours talking to Cristen, or Lane, or Joey about Lane?

(And it only got worse when Cristen's family got three-way calling installed. Now me, Cristen AND Kristy could all talk at once. And when others started getting three-way, we realised we could link up a call to an expotential number! I think our record was nine people together on the phone at once.)

With a party line, you could never be sure your conversation was completely private. More than once I'd pick up the phone, hear chatter instead of a dialtone and press 'mute' to listen in for a few minutes to see how close they were to ending their conversation about their nephews' new track lighting before hanging up. I also recall people listening in on my conversations. This always annoyed me because HELLOOOO this is an A B conversation so C your way out of it! This is private! Once, in an effort to get a nosey old woman off the phone, I dredged up the most controversial topic I could think of and asked Cristen, "So what do you think of gays in the military?" Click. Somehow it worked. The lady must've been pretty annoyed and uninterested in two eleven year olds' thoughts on politics. Heck, I didn't even know what 'gays in the military' meant, but I'd heard Dad talking about it and it sounded pretty intense.

I've never really understood how the party line thing worked. I used to try and think it through. We all clearly had different phone numbers, but we all shared the same phone line. How? And even now, thinking about it, how did that work? Did we share a phone bill? Did they divvy (sp?) up the charges by phone number? Did the party liners live in the same general vicinity? Did we share a power line? I can understand two different numbers being at the same address but not two different numbers sharing the same line. It's baffling. I'm gonna go google it.

It was such a liberating day the day we got our very own telephone line. I bet the old ladies felt exactly the same.

Linky-dinks

I've updated my blog links in the 'blogs' section (der). I hope I haven't left out anyone... if you and I are faithful readers of each others blogs and I left you out, let me know!

But let me please direct everyone to Ashlea's blog so you can all congratulation her on her TWINS! She's just found out she's not having one, but two, little daughters. I am so happy for her I could dance! But I won't! Especially funny is the fact that her very "guy's guy" husband is now going to have, not one, but THREE girls living under his roof! He'll be braiding hair and buying tampons in no time. And, of course, staging troops in his front yard as soon as they turn fourteen.

Congratulations, you guys.

Beach n00b

I had a splendid weekend. Oh let me tell you about it! You'll feel as relaxed as I did just reading about it!

Saturday I slept in late, ate breakfast in bed (because my hubby is lovely and takes care of my pregnant slobby self), bathed and then headed into town for my one hour massage. Oh, bliss! It felt SO good, and I'm pretty sure Baby enjoyed it too. (And have no fear, no essential oils were used.)

Then I drove down to Gourock to meet a couple friends for coffee and lunch. I have a girl crush on both of them, so it was a lot of fun. After lunch, we three took a stroll down the shore in the sun and breeze and then sat looking over the river for a while, just chatting away. I came home, soaked in a hot bath and slept the night away.

On Sunday, Scott and I packed a picnic lunch and headed off for Cornalees for a hike. Only, we took a wrong turn and ended up in Inverkip. So Scott asked if I'd rather have our picnic at Lunderston Bay, since I've not been there before. Boy am I glad I said yes!



Having never lived near any real mass of water (the Arkansas River hardly counts), I'm completely unused to sea life. So the bay ended up being a major adventure for me!

We started out with lunch on the picnic tables.



Then we took a saunter along the banks. There were barnicles and sea urchins everywhere! And mussels and molosks and all sorts of seashell-abiding creatures I can't spell!

And splashy water and rocks and beautiful weather. I was loving it.



There was a sign warning of washed-up jellyfish. I saw two, but I only took a picture of one. I should've gotten both, as the one I got looks kinda dead. The other was purpley and slimy and looked pretty alive.



Then there was the one full-grown sea urchin! Scott showed me how to make its tentacles move by touching them with the tip of a candy wrapper. I tried, but Scott told me to be more gentle. I was like a toddler out there. Though I'm sure everyone just thought I was a tourist with my sensible walking shoes, backpack and camera. And of course my extraneous shouts of "Oh my gawish! WHAT IS THA-ET?" in a really pronounced Southern accent.

[editbyscott] I actually told Lori the wrong word for these, they are anenomies.[/editbyscott]


Scott was hoping he'd find some washed-up starfish or some crabs for me to see, but we couldn't find any. He thinks they're either out of season or dying off from all the polution. It was too bad, I was hoping to get a starfish and attach it to my ear and see if it really does whisper flatteries into your ear like that mermaid movie that just came out said.

At any rate, it was all totally exciting to me.



Then we headed home and just relaxed until bedtime. Oh yeah, and we played Chinese Checkers.

Blogger Comments BLEH

Yeah, so the Blogger comments were short-lived. I hated them. I hated how they looked. And I tried for ages to change the style and all that, but Blogger is so limited, nothing I did made any difference. So I'm back to Haloscan, which, by the way, maintained all my old comments and placed them back where they belong. Nice.

So sorry to Kristen and Amanda for your short-lived comments. I appreciate you mentioning, Kristen, pesto, because I was sooo gonna make a pesto pasta and now I'm thinking twice.

Meanwhile, (and that's all you get for a segue) I found a bathroom suite - as in a bathtub, toilet and hand basin - on sale at Homebase for - get this - £299.98. Oh. My. Goodness. A white bathroom suite! For pennies! (In as far as bathroom suites go.) Scott and I are gonna find out how much it would cost to have it fitted, and then there's an extremely good chance we'll get it. It even comes with taps! A white bathroom! With shiny taps! Would be such a vast improvement from this:



I've also started getting into the baby-buying mode. I mean, we'll need lots of stuff, why not start buying now? We're gonna decorate the baby room in a "jungle animal" theme, with a special emphasis on monkeys and giraffes. Somehow, I've managed to limit myself to these purchases only (so far):



But hot on the To-Buy list are this and this.

BABIEZ!

The End. (Baby is making mommy tired, or at least that's my excuse.)

[EDIT]: Ah-ha! So it's HALOSCAN that is causing those darn pop-ups to come up when using Internet Explorer. Blast it! I'm gonna have to do something about that. So it looks like new comments will HAVE to happen, whether they are Blogger-style or not. Dang it dang it dang it.

Schmooker Does the Macarena!

Is that not the most PERFECT baby you've ever seen?!?!

Schmooker was ALL ABOUT getting his/her picture taken. Schmooker waved, jumped, twirled, kicked and peek-a-booed. It was IN-freakin-CREDIBLE.

It was surreal. Unlike anything I've ever experienced. As soon as the sonographer placed the thing on my belly, an image of a REAL LIFE HUMAN BABY sprung to the screen and I sort of yelped. "Is that my baby?!" Scott and I just stared in disbelief and hitherto unbelievable love as our baby performed tricks for us.

And get this- it's tall for its age. :) My baby is taller than the average baby. :D Yes, I'm feeling The Mom Pride. Most baby's this age are 6cm - Schmooker is 6.3cm. AND I was right about my dates, even though the midwives didn't believe me. I mean, hello! Were you there when I ovulated? Do you track my cycles? Yeah, I didn't think so. So when I say I'm 12 weeks and three days, don't argue and say I'm only 12 weeks. Because dude, I know. This also means my estimated due date is correct - Feb 17. I'm so clever. (As Scott rolls his eyes.)

So I don't even know what else to say about it. Basically all this puking is totally worth it to have this little thing growing in my belly. (I mean, I'd prefer the puking to NOT happen and this little thing to keep growing, but if I have to puke to keep it safe, then I will.)

Which, by the way, I had the worst possible night of sickness IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE the other night, which I won't share any details of because it involves garlic, being home alone and being stuck in my bedroom due to a broken doorknob.