final preparations

i'm a loaded gun. a few signs that we're close to having a baby:

1. my belly matches the contour line of my oval mirror


and check out that belly button! part of my daily exercises is to try to push it back in, but sadly to no avail. turkey is done.

2. to our utter delight, my parents' antique piano they gave us as a wedding gift came last week, so we're now all ready to lull the baby with our melodic renditions of chopstix (please ignore that giant hole in my sock. putting socks on is such a production these days as it is, let alone CHANGING socks after they're already on because of a measly hole)


(p.s. looks almost identical to my photoshopped version of the room, huh?? it's almost like i took that picture and just photoshopped myself in)

3. milo's claimed his favorite baby toy by dragging it into his bed this morning to cuddle with it. sorry baby, i don't think you're getting that one back. first come, first serve


4. our conversations these days consist of: "why are you limping?" "i'm not. i'm waddling."

and not that it has anything to do with anything (except it might detract the baby from wanting to be born into such a kooky place), but i'm pretty sure this girl i saw the other day on pearl street wasn't wearing any pants

broomball

i feel really really jipped right now. how come i've never heard of this sport?? broomball: like hockey only you have brooms instead of sticks, you're hitting a small soccer ball type thing and you wear shoes instead of skates.... i'm sure the equipment gets more progressive once you reach the big broomball leagues, but hello - how fabulous is this??

of course, i could never play it because of my deathly allergy to walking on ice (i really do think it's an illness of mine. it used to take me an extra 20 minutes - yes 20 minutes to walk to school on an icy day because my legs stiffen right up. quite a curse), but why oh why don't any of my friends play broomball so i can at least go and watch? i promise i make a good cheerleader!*

i can only imagine the entertainment value of watching this sport in person.

*unless i bring a really good book and am the only person in the stands... sorry about any and all times you've made a really good hockey play while i'm there, the boy, and my nose is stuck in a book...

the real benefits of living in a technologically savvy world

looking for that perfectly unique christmas gift that'll scream "this came from me?" and don't worry, it's only slightly less creepy than how angelina jolie used to wear a vial of billy bob thornton's blood around her neck to show how much she loved him. (is it funny that i subconsciously used the spelling "vile" initially? i think not)

picture this: a LARGE artistic portrait of your very own dna or fingerprint hanging over the fireplace in your loved one's family room. cozy. what, not sexy enough for you? looking for something a little more santa baby-ish? how about your lip print, yes lip print, as artwork?

it's probably a good idea to ask yourself before giving this gift: "do i ever plan on committing a crime where they might find my dna/fingerprint/lip print? if so, maybe i shouldn't have a giant picture of it hanging up somewhere..."

and if you're really considering this gift, you might also want to ask yourself: "have i lost my marbles?"