Wanderlust

Trick or Treat

My favorite line from tonight's two hour tricker treater marathon came from a little girl not more than three with a green suit and butterfly wings. She was with a group of older children and was getting lost in the shuffle behind the door. She waited until all the others had shouted their trick or treats and then held out her bag to me and quietly but clearly said,

"No tricks, please. I don't like tricks. I just want a treat."

Having a ghoulishly good time in there...

When we went to our midwife last week, she captured a perfect Halloween photo of Owen's face. He looks so ghoulish in there! You can see the bones of his face really well and then that's his arm next to the side of his face. We recently got a scanner and will be posting all the baby photos in the gallery soon. Owen's still kicking up a storm early in the morning and late at night and has started to respond to loud music. He is just a little over two pounds now and we have about 12 more weeks to go until delivery. We've decided to deliver at the hospital just down the street (literally less than a mile!) Ogden Regional Medical Center. They have private birthing suites with jacuzzi tubs and let you stay in the same room post partum as long as the ward doesn't get too busy. We'll be attending baby classes there in the next month on childbirthing, breastfeeding and baby care. Don't worry... whether you like it or not, we'll fill you in on those in detail! Also, I sanded and taped Owen's room yesterday and hope to begin painting today. Issues still up in the air... to circumcise or not to circumcise.

Hope you can join us tomorrow at 7 pm MST (9pm EST) on the webcam for the baby shower! If you haven't had a chance to send a gift yet for the shower and you'd like to, you can still log onto our baby registry. There's plenty of cool items left and Amazon does do overnight and expedited shipping. Until tomorrow, have a ghoulishly good time and Happy Halloween!

Top 10 Things that Suck about living in Suburbia

1. You can't surf for porn comfortably in front of an open window without feeling paranoid. (Note: I don't surf for porn. But if I did, I'd feel paranoid about it.)

2. There are at least five places that deliver pizza to your address so every time you want to order out, it becomes a five minute conversation... "How about Papa John's? Domino's? I don't know... what do you want?"

3.When you're the last person to rake your leaves in the fall, people walk by your house and you can hear them muttering under their breath, "Lazy bastard."

4. People bus their children into your neighborhood to trick or treat, so when Halloween comes and your run out of candy after half an hour, you become a prisoner in your own home, huddled in the basement in the dark.

5. If you accidentally burn something in your lethally hot and ancient stove and set the fire alarm off, it's not just your husband that laughs at you. The whole neighborhood gets to enjoy the joke.

6. The entire neighborhood, laced with pristine sidewalks and parks, is so damn inviting for walking that you have absolutely no excuse not to get off your lazy ass. If that white haired lady doubled over her cane can make it down the street, so can you.

7. When the neighbors decide that three enormous, cheezy blow up dolls, fake headstones and cobwebs from all the bushes are the perfect addition to their Halloween decor, there ain't nothing you can do about it but hang your head in shame.

8. When you haven't washed your truck for four months and the clouds of dirt are inviting neighborhood kids to practice their calligraphy on your rear window, you can't blame it on the rough roads and country living. It's apparent to everyone. You're just an asshole.

9. The big, fuzzy orange cat that looks like Garfield is not a fitting substitute for the moose that used to wander through your yard, although the dogs seem excited since they're relatively sure they can at least catch the cat.

10. When you're making naked, passionate love in your backyard, the kids next door won't stop asking stupid questions..."Ewwwww.... what are you guys doing over there?"

Finally, some new god damn photos!

We went away back in September for an extended weekend, but have been slow about getting the photos up for viewing. George and I decided to go to the Uintahs and rent a cabin for the weekend and see if we could remember what it was like to hang out together without two dogs, a new house, three jobs, and a baby on the way. There were frequent lightening storms that weekend and George caught some wicked ass shots, of which we only subjected you to a few since it took hundreds just to catch one or two strikes. We also spent some time paddling around on the little pond they fondly call a lake where we were staying. Since it was the end of the season it was oddly quiet and we saw lots of wildlife, including meandering herds of wild goats and deer. Check out the pics here.

Surreal Suburbian

Yesterday, as I pulled up to our house, I saw two beheaded and gutted deer hanging from the tree on the front lawn of our neighbor's house. Their flock of children and friends were standing around gawking as Dad continued to saw away at the carcasses, throwing remnants directly into the trash collection bin. Evening commuters slowed as they passed. Mom was chittering at one of the young ones who was close to the tree "Honey, don't play in the blood."

And then when the sunset came, it looked like this.

Mormonville is a strange, strange place.

Yard Sale!

If you happen to be checking out our website on Saturday 9-3pm, you can check out the webcam to see our yardsale. Hopefully we can make some good money to help pay for the house the baby and whatever else your supposed to pay for when you live in suburbia hell. :)
Here is the link.

Sixty seconds at Costco

After throwing on clothes in a dark room and rushing out to do an errand tonight, I stopped at Costco to get gas because everyone stops at Costco to get gas. It's cheaper than a Mormon on a pension. The lights they have there are brilliant enought to beckon alien spaceships in to land. Standing at the pump, gas and money pouring at an amazing rate into my hungry, guzzling tank, I looked down at my shirt and noticed that the seam on my sleeve was sticking out. Not being able to get a good view of my entire body because I was helplessly attached to the pump while gas, my lifeblood, flowed into it, I came to a horrifying realization. I was standing in the middle of the busiest and brightest gas station in town, right across from the mall, on a Friday night with my shirt on INSIDE OUT. I looked around furtively and contemplated pulling out early and spewing my gasoline all over the ground to make a quick get away. People at nearby pumping staions seemed to be trying too hard NOT to look at me. I was beginning to flush with embarassment when the pump miraculously clanged to a halt and I was able to sever the guilty connection with my gas guzzling vehicle and actually take a good look at the front of my shirt.

It was on right side out.

UNLIMITED AOL - FREE!!!

Today we received a package in the mail for Unlimited AOL, free. We thought that Miles was old enough that he could use the internets without supervision. Unfortunately, being a dog, he isn't as internet savvy as Kaz and I. I'm not sure he understood how to use the internets. But I think he still got alot out of it. It was free, and Miles is all about getting good deals.

The 100th Day

It's official- only 100 days more of pregnancy to go! This still seems like a morbidly long time, but considering Owen is still growing lungs in there, I'm reluctant to encourage his immediate exit. So onward we go. And as we approach ever nearer the marker of my 30th birthday (November 6th) and the end of fun as I know it, I have to admit feeling a bit sorry for myself. 30 and pregnant. Gee, I always thought I'd have more done by now.

I've finally started to write a book for real. No, you can't see it. I figured I might be dead at any moment now, so it seemed silly to wait for an idea. I'll just start writing crap. I'm confident that's what Hemingway did. Sat down, drank a bottle of tequila and thought... what nonsencial bullshit should I spew today? I am, of course, snobbishly drinking vanilla chai in this scenario in place of the tequila. I do put worms in it for authenticity and inspiration, though.

I've also begun to accept that I may never actually ENJOY being pregnant. I'm grateful our societal views have evolved enough for me to be able to say that being an incubator for nine months and sacrificing your health and any good looks you may still have to carry around another person in your stomach sucks. Don't let anyone try to convinice you of anything different. There. I only feel somewhat guilty and enormously sure that I've shocked at least one of my older relatives. I also feel lucky that I'm not republican so I can say I hate being pregnant and still love Owen at the same time. I hate this war but support the troops. Is your head spinning yet?

Thank you, thank you to all the parents and family who have sent their gifts already for the shower. I am happily drowning in baby clothes. We could, however, really use some help with our baby registry. We are isolated from family and friends and live in Utah, were the Mormons have ten kids and the hand me downs never make it past number six. And since this is our first, I don't have ANY of this crap, all of which seems depressingly necessary (except maybe that huge baby pillow). When a yard sale lists baby items in the paper, mothers to be start camping out on your doorstep the night before. I am serious. This is the land of yard sale freaks. I've seen garage sale classifieds that say "early birds will be stoned to death."

We'll still have the shower gift opening ceremonies on November 1st, although it is doubtful that we'll be able to do it live via the webcam because George assures me that the feed would get so slow it would be like committing technological suicide to try to watch it. We'll probably just post pics and let you decide if you want to endure the drudgery. But gifts are needed, welcomed and rejoiced over. And you can send a gift for the baby in lieu of a gift for me for my birthday. Because I've also accepted that motherhood means you'll never get another Christmas or birthday gift that's REALLY for you again. Not unless you wrap it yourself.

Why stairs were invented...

So really pregnant people could paint their own toenails and breathe at the same time.

The Survivor

You may have been wondering what the update is for our little tumor ridden Timber since our last post concerning his impending operation. Shortly after we publicly pleaded for his life and our wallet, the tumor actually seemed to be getting smaller. I had been applying lavendar oil to it daily and trying to keep at least the scab as clean as possible. We weren't positive, so when we went away that weekend and kenneled the dogs, George and I knew we'd have to take a close look at the situation when we returned and make a decesion. To cut or not to cut. That was the question.

When we came home, it was obvious. The tumor wasn't only getting smaller, it was disappearing. The scab had gone and the swollen hard nodule was diminishing daily. Over the last few weeks, it has faded into a small gray patch buried in the furry tufts of his ear. Now, you can barely see the outline of the "tumor." The Targ beat cancer! He's a survivor.

Timber has specified that all funds raised towards his tumor removal be redirected towards supplying all his friends on the little yellow bus with frosty paws.

Fess up... which one of you guys pissed off God?

Is it just me or does it seem like extraordinary and catastrophic acts of nature have been a bit too frequent lately? It really began with the massive Tsunami in the Indian Ocean that caused widespread devastation in Asia, then continued with a series of violent hurricanes, not the least of which was our very own little Katrina. Now, an enormous earthquake big enough to shake even Bin Laden out of his hiding hole rocks Kasmir and Pakistan. And then I saw this story on the BBC site and thought... hmmm.
Mystery fog engulfs Nigerian city
So it's time to take responsibility now... which one of you forgot to put Jesus on your Christmas list?
Because you know... it wasn't me. I love Jesus.

Everyone's a comedian

When calling in a delivery order, I asked the local pizza joint guy if one of their calzones were big enough for two.
"Sure. Two really small people who aren't that interested in eating."
Smartass.

Suburbian Sunset

Even Mormonland doesn't look so bad from here.

Miles and Timber: Adventure in the Big City

Yesterday at work, after an afternoon of bouts of incessant barking from Miles as one or another offensive young child in pigtails dared to ride her bike across the store parking lot, the dogs settled into silence. Glancing out the back door, I was surprised to see the hispanic dude (who must be unemployed and homeschooling his children because the entire family seems to always be home having a party on their front stoop) emerge from his house and loiter around his own driveway, undisturbed by riotious barking from Miles. I peeked out the back door to praise the boys for their restraint and scanning the enclosure realized in less than five seconds that they weren't there.

Sheer panic, of course, my immediate reaction. I avoided the typical hysterics of womanhood by a narrow margin. Miles had been jumping at the gate several times that day and must have succeeded in deducing that the paddle lock was slightly loose and slid out on the gate when repeatedly jolted. I had no idea how long they had been gone. I walked back into the store, slipped the phone into my pocket and the keys to the register and went into the street.

I began by shouting their names and scanning the nearby sections of residential streets. My own voice sounded strained and frenzied and there was a girl across the street sitting on her bike at the corner that simply stared at me as I paced and called like a lunatic. It was four thirty and traffic was fairly thick as people began their commute home. I naturally had visions of bloody dog in the street and realized that, while both dogs had tags, neither had the correct information since I had neglected to update their licenses when we moved. Miles and Timber were nowhere to be seen and they could have been on Route 15 by now for all I knew. I was just beginning to debate locking the store and getting in the truck when I noticed the little girl across the street was still there, idly spinning her pedals and staring at my little drama.

"Did you see two dogs?"

"I think so." Thank God. She spoke English. "What color were they?"

It seemed such an absurd question. "Black and tan."

"Yeah, they went that way a few minutes ago. They were following a guy." She pointed down the street, where four blocks away there was a major intersection and a drive up liquor store. Not a good combination for doggie survival.

I didn't even think about it, I just ran. I must have been quite a sight, pregnant belly protruding from my apron and frantic movements. People turned and stared, traffic in the street slowed but I kept running and calling their names with what little breath I could muster.

After about two monumental blocks, I saw a gaggle of canine shapes moving about in the distance another block or two up on the opposite side of the street. My first thought was... "They crossed the street... in this traffic... without an adult! They are in BIG trouble." I hurriedly jogged across the street without even glancing at the oncoming traffic. I knew I was a large enough obstuction to jaywalk without fear. Nobody wants to be responsible for hitting a pregnant lady. I slowed when I reached the other side and saw Miles and Timber less than a block away, milling about in someone's yard with two other smaller dogs.

Now even Jeff Corwin will tell you that a dog loose in the wilds must be approached carefully. Wrath and indignation or stubborn commands will only get you into a nice game of dodge and duck where you, the human, are sure to be the loser. The beatings can always come later. I stopped where I was as soon as I saw Miles turn my way and recognize me from the distance. I squatted threw out my arms, and yelled their names estatically as if we had been separated for years and were enduring a TV staged reunion for the Oprah Winfrey show. They came running.

I had stupidly forgotten their leashes, so once I had a hold on those collars, I couldn't let go. I drug them four blocks back to the store, panting and heaving (all three of us) and enduring the grins of people in the street who, to my consternation, seemed to think a furious pregnant lady in an apron dragging two mischevious labradors was the funniest thing they had seen all day. Halfway to the store, I looked down at my WHITE skirt to see patches of bright red. Timber had gotten in a scuffle and was bleeding heavily around the mouth. A closer inspection back at the store showed a deep puncture wound above his lip suspiciously in the shape of a large canine tooth.

After a breathless, incoherent call to George, I inspected the wound closely and decided it was less serious than I thought. I cleaned it briefly and threw them both out back again, this time barricading them in by a big cinder block across the front gate. Miles and Timber, satiated by their adventure, lay panting and dozing for the rest of the afternoon. I'd like to say I was really pissed at them and even though I swore to them that Daddy would beat them silly when we got home, nothing of the sort happened. They lay happily next to me watching TV all night, drooling and running and whimpering in their dreams. And I was just so god damn happy they were there I forgot all about being pissed. Stupid dogs.

Memoirs on Mommihood: Part III

KEEP IT DOWN IN THERE

I should have known from the beginning that I am just not the sort of woman that is cut out to be a human incubator. When I was wretchedly miserable my first trimester, well meaning people would console me with the fact that pregnancy would be down right enjoyable in a few weeks once the worst was behind me. It certainly is wonderful not to feel as though every movement could suddenly bring forth a wave of nausea and vomit, but I have to say that I've found pregnancy and the expansion of my stomach (and thighs, unfortunately) to be nothing more than tolerable. The reality is still unbelievable and there are times when I look down, see the bulge that is slowly obstructing my view of my own previously attractive feet, and think... oh, yeah. There's a baby in there. That's right.

There have been instances lately though when, to my great amusement, Owen will not allow me to forget that he's in there. At odd moments that seem to have no connection to each other, he'll release a series of kicks and punches that feel like butterflies beating their wings inside my stomach. And I'll look down and think, okay little one, take it easy. Quiet down in there. Enjoy the blissful serenity and mindless euphoria now, cause when you come out, its going to suck. I promise.

I still move with ease, although extracting myself from the depths of the couch at the end of the night is sometimes more difficult than I would like to admit. The hardest part has actually been finding things I can wear. My closet has dwindled down to a few shirts, a sweater or two, and less than three pairs of pants that will successfully accomodate my current waistline. Since I'm nearly six months along now, I don't feel too badly about this development. But the frustration of being without a washer and dryer and trying to make it two weeks on variations of the same three outfits is becoming legistically impossible. Tomorrow I have to face the serious decesion- go to the laundromat or have to wear pajama pants all day.

I don't know... what do you think Owen?