Thursday, September 28, 2000

Sexy Teddy...'Nuff Said...

To each his own

I think that Jenny has gotten a little spooked about pregnancy. I can understand what she is going through. It seems like every woman, or man for that matter, that has gone through the 9 long months of pregnancy and subsequent labor and delivery is more than happy to share their "horror" stories with those of us that have yet to experience the miracle of birth. I remember sitting at lunch with some new mom friends and having long drawn out conversations about baby poop and engorged breasts. I think that is one of the reasons why I waited so long to start a family. My vanity prevented me from sacrificing my body (not that it was great, but it was young and nubile) for the generation of a new human. Today, while dining with the usual suspects, we discussed the joys of mysteriously appearing accessory nipples, bellybuttons going from innies to outies, the controversy and convenience of breast feeding and of course that all important, "why can't we just hatch out of eggs" -- Jenny theory. Well, you know, sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror I can really appreciate this "hatch theory". As I witness my expansive belly, I think that the idea of just poppin' out an egg and incubating it in a portable unit you can take to work seems quite convenient. But when I feel the little guy moving around inside, I think, "chickens just don't know what they are missing." So the next line is dedicated to Jenny and all of the future moms and friends of moms out there (I got this passage from a friend of mine. It's called Erma's Angel):

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy,
I'd have cherished every moment realizing that the
wonderment growing inside me was the only
chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

Wednesday, September 27, 2000

I'm a Freak!!!

I just got back from my monthly doctor's visit...yea, yea...baby is fine, yep it's a boy, he currently weights 1 lb 6 oz, my weight is fine yada, yada, yada. The visit was extraordinarily normal until...da da da dum...I found out that I'm a freak. I had this spot, you see, under my right breast. It was a dark coloration, kinda like a chocolate stain. I had my Dr. husband look at it last night with fear and trepidation in my voice because I had never noticed this new spot before and I was afraid of what it might be. Well, as it turns out...as my OB/GYN looked at it...she says nonchalantly "Oh, you have a third nipple." Gasp, I say "a third nipple?" Meanwhile, my kind and loving husband is chuckling in the corner in between guffaws of ... "freak, freak!" Well, the Doc went on to say that everyone starts off this way...kinda like kittens, but since there is no use for them, evolution has solved the problem by getting rid of them. I think, "at least in normal people, but not me because I'm a Freak!" And I thought this only happened on tv (Chandler Bing in Friends.)

Please cut the tails off my Shrimp

I'm a simple girl. I don't think that I ask for alot in this world. All I ask is that you show up on time for an appointment, that I am treated respectfully at auto dealerships, and that they cut the tails off of the shrimp adorning my pasta primavera.

Yesterday, I didn't have time to blog...sorry. But I had to go home to wait for the delivery of my new beautiful armoire from Arhaus furniture. The armoire was a surprise birthday gift from my hubby and I was really anxious to see it placed in the space we had cleared off in our tiny living room. My intention was to do some work on my computer while I waited for the delivery truck. The day promised to be wonderful. The sun was shining (which is unusual in Rochester), I was getting my b-day present, I was going to have a nice, quiet, productive afternoon on my home computer and I had plans to go out for dinner at a restaurant we hadn't tried. Nice, huh!? Well, first off the delivery of my armoire was scheduled within a 4 hour block (12Noon-4pm). Because of this huge chunk of time, the furniture place had promised to give me a 2 hr. notice to give me a more accurate approximation of when the truck was due to arrive at my home. It was 11:30 before I decided to give them a call to see what was going on. They could not get a hold of the driver and therefore could not tell me when I had to be at home. I had to call them back several times to see when I had to meet the truck and finally they told me that I should be home by 1:30 to receive my furniture. As I'm rushing home through the remnants of lunch-hour traffic on a 2-lane road, I rolled my windows down to let some of the crisp fall air cool the interior of my car. Mind you, the traffic was unnervingly dense and I was not going to get home by 1:30pm as planned. After my car cooled down and as I am rolling the windows back up, one of the windows in the back would not go up! The window motor kept whirring but NOTHING... This had happened to me before and I ended up having to make a $200 investment to replace the mechanism in the door panel. I knew that I had to get someone to help me pull the window up and temporarily tape it so that it would not fall back into the door panel. It had previously taken 2-3 days to receive the particular part for the window so I knew that I would have to make an appointment at a later date to have my car repaired. So, as soon as I got home I called the dealership to get some help. I started with the service center that I usually take my VW to and ended up calling all over Rochester to see if there was anyone cordial enough to help a "damsel in distress". Well, I was assaulted by the same excuse..."Lady, you can leave the car but we won't be able to get to it for several days...ha, ha, ha...you want a loner car? Sorry but your business is not important enough to warrant a loner car." Mind you, my husband had the very same problem with his Jeep Cherokee and not only did they give him a loner for a week, but they did the repair for free and washed, waxed, and vacuumed his car before returning it. Needless to say I was pissed off! I had been taking my car to the same dealership for 4 years for anything from oil changes to every little nick and scratch I got from parking at the local Weggies (Hi Joel!). They had never treated me right but I expected some minimal courtesy as a long standing customer. Meanwhile, it is 3:30 and the furniture truck has yet to arrive at my house. The best I could do was call my last resort which was the body shop that I had just visited to fix a bumper mishap from a recent fender bender (NOT MY FAULT). I could only leave a voicemail and hope that this guy, named Andy, could help me out. Finally, after calling a few more times, I was able to track down the delivery truck and they arrived with my armoire at around 4:00pm. In the meantime, body shop Andy had called to let me know that he would be happy to get someone to look at my window...if I could get to the shop by 4:15-4:30. It took the furniture guys less then 10 minutes to unload, place and unwrap my armoire....Okay, buh-bye! I raced over to the shop and in 20 minutes flat, knight-in-shining-armour Andy had the window up and a technician assessing the damage. The part would be in by this friday for repair...whoohooo! By the way, he did not charge me for taking up his time. Later that night, we went out to dinner and when I got my Scallops and Shrimp Alfredo...they had cut the tails off the shrimp! (Okay, so they missed one)...but still THEY CUT THE TAILS OFF MY SHRIMP! To top everything off, I had an Austrian Chocolate Torte with my coffee...so all is good in the world! Hey, maybe this is a Touched by an Angel episode? Halleluyah!!!

Monday, September 25, 2000

Over the Weekend,

Michael Flatley visits in the night...

So I had been waiting for the blessed moment in which my growing baby would start to let me know he was inside and fine. Movement is supposed to start happening about the 20th week or so. The most people could describe it as is butterflies in your stomach. Well, I have been feeling little flutters but I always thought it was gas. But Saturday night after watching many hours of the Olympics on TV (hello Alexi Nemov)...I felt it! I was sound asleep, laying on my rightside when all of a sudden...tap, tap, tap on my ribs! I was startled when I awoke and actually screamed out a little. My poor husband...was shocked until I started giggling. I couldn't really get back to sleep because the little guy kept pounding on my side like a mini 'Lord of the Dance' . It was really quite comical but what does this mean? Will my kid grow up to be the next Olympic Gold Medalist on pommel horse or will he strap on the leg warmers and headband and embark on becoming the next foot stomping irishmen or puertorican- irishmen. Those ricans can dance!

Happy 30th...yippeeeee!

Today I turned 30. Wow! I never really thought about that number before this morning. I got up thinking, "Ugghh, another Monday..." But it isn't just another Monday, it is September 25th, the same day that I share with Superman, Christoper Reeves, who is well over 30 and a commendable human being. Just think, in just 3 more years I can qualify for the Olympic swimming team like Dara Torres (age 33). Okay, so I may not make the Olympics but I still get carded at bars. To be honest, I expected to look different today...would I see new lines around my eyes, will my boobs all of a sudden look like that lady in that movie 'Something about Mary'... Would I have to invest in Alphahydroxy skin creams and support hose? When should I plan on buying my first house-coat and knee high nude-colored nylons? Hey, maybe I will get my AARP card today...maybe, I can get the senior citizens discount at the movies! Well, maybe not, but a girl can always dream. I'm still not done growing up. Cartoons are my favorite Saturday morning activity, Frosted Flakes my favorite cereal, and I still call my father 'Daddy'. So far 30 has been treating me pretty well. My husband got me flowers, a card and Chocolate cake. My boss got me a big box of donuts to share (Jenny and I chowed today) and I STILL GET CARDED AT BARS.

 

Friday, September 22, 2000

Come here wee man, Rub my Belly...

I promised Joel that this blog wouldn't become a pregnancy blog but... Anyway, during my lunch break I met a few friends at the local Coffee Spot. While I was walking to my car, I passed the dozens of construction workers that are renovating the sidewalks in front of our office building. Not a look, not a whistle, not even a hiss!!! Now, I may not be Miss America but I sorta became used to the lears and stares of construction workers and one-toothed, bald men as I walked down city streets. I never thought that I would admit to this, but now that I am getting no reaction, well BlogIt &$@##, I miss being seen as a sex object and degraded by my fellow man (Tony-this does not mean you!). It seems that phrases/words such as babe, hottie, "all that an' a bag o'chips" are replace by cute, glowing, maam, and "as huge as a whale". Well, cute is for Care Bears...do you see a rainbow and a heart etched on my belly? It seems like every stranger that I meet immediately sticks out their hand to rub my belly like the Buddah in a chinese restaurant (not like Christina Aguilera singing 'Genie in a Bottle'). I was steaming about this as I crossed the street in front of the coffee shop....and I heard it....'beep, beep'... I turned to see who the idiot was (secretly hoping that the blasting horn was for me) when...YES...there was a one-toothed, bald headed 'gentleman' across the street craning his neck to see me!!! Well, I thought, at least my butt looks good in these pants.

 

Thursday, September 21, 2000

G** Blogit! $#%&@@! Okay, so why does my blog always start with the word "Okay"? How predictable...

Alexander, Christian or Diego?

Okay, so I am in my 22nd week of pregnancy and according to my ultrasound my current tenant is going to be a boy. Now my husband and I are in the process of trying to find the most appropriate name for the little critter. While in utero we have been calling him/her Seamus. It is a quirky kinda catchy little name that I guess we picked up from having gone to an Irish-Catholic College. Mind you, I am not Irish but Puerto Rican but my husband has an Irish last name...soooo it has been very hard to find names that sound just as nice in Español as they do in English. Our favorite, so far, has been Christian James (CJ) but we have had many suggestions, especially from my 26 year old brother who insists that CJ is for wussies. Here are just a few of my bro's suggestions: Alexander, André, Emilio, Diego, Kyle, Casey, Don, Donovan, Davis, Tron, Khan, Maximillian, Dennis (his name), Peyton (after the football player), Thurman (after the football player) and the list goes on and on with each additional name sounding like the "little fat kid that sat in the back of the classroom eating his boogers" (quote by Andy). I want my boy to be a boy with curly locks (like mom's) and a mischievous streak (like dad) so what is the best namesake for him?

Alexander (the Great), seems like a boyish enough kinda guy. Alexander ascended to the throne by the age of twenty, conquered most of the known world by thirty and died at 32 (OUCH). Alex, as his mother might have called him, had a wonderful relationship with his Mom (how sweet) and was said to not have had a sexual relationship with a woman until he was about 23 (Good for him "Not me, Not now!). For all his manly charms, boyish good looks and prudent behavior it seems like Alexander pleased both the ladies as well as the men of his time "Not that there's anything wrong with that"--Sienfeld. Alexander had the wavy hair, he loved his mommy, and waited for the right woman or man, but I think I would be more comfortable if my boy was not as confused and lived 'til the ripe old age of 93. Oh, Alexander is also the precocious little elephant son of Babar.

Christian, name meaning a "follower of Christ" (not a bad role model). Other Christians include, Christian Slater and Christian Bale, both actors and quite the "mmmm" as Jenny describes Christian Bale. Although fine on the silverscreen, Slater has had problems with keeping a smooth complexion (just a tip, use Oxy Clean) and Bale well he is Psycho (As in "American Psycho"). So, will my little boy be an actor with stock in Clearasil? Will he have throngs of followers? Will he inherit a smoky complexion and faraway eyes? Well, maybe not but he might be good enough for Menudo.

Diego , Diego Rivera, mexican muralist, husband to both Frida Kahlo and then Georgia O'Keefe. Seemingly supportive of his wives' artistic careers and acted as mentor of sorts to both, but at least in Frida's case, was rumored to be a womanizer...of course she had a few problems herself. Creative, intelligent, patriotic, and lover of women...sounds like a good match but the guy looks like a frog and the name evokes images of smoky bars and loose women. Diego...just say, "Not me, Not now!".

Well, picking a name is difficult needless to say. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what the little guy looks like. But at least we have a name for our puppy when we get one....Come here Seamus!

Wednesday, September 20, 2000

Okay, so I decided to run with the Lemmings and start my own BLOG...Here goes! I am actually quite nervous about this. It is easier to make people believe that you are funny when you are just telling a story but writing something interesting is completely different. Because of this I decided to point you to other newbie BLOGGERS. We have enough people now to form a boy band! Jenny-aka "the cute one"; Joel- "the one your mom loves to hate"; Tina- "the italian one", Abby- "shy but deadly" and me (Millie, better known as "Rican Spice"). Have fun and I'll blog soon!

Blog you !@$%**@