random thoughts for a friday

First off, I would like to state that I made fish for dinner tonight...sticks for the short people, and sandwiches for the tall people.  I chose sandwiches for us because I thought I could put enough stuff in the bun with the fish to disguise the fish.  I was wrong.  I would also like to say that I really, really do not like fish.  Especially when I'm pregnant.  But, as fate would have it, everybody else was SO!!!!  CRAZY!!!!  THRILLED!!! about the fish, I suffered in silence.  Until now.  I just needed to say that I hate fish so that I get it out of my system.  (For the record, I will most likely eat a proper, grease-dipped fish fry during Lent and I will probably love it, but that is different than grocery store fish.)

After a colossal battle of truly epic proportions this morning, the sort of colossal battle in which nobody actually wins and everyone walks away with a bad case of bleeding on the brain, I packed the two shortest people in the minicoopervan, and sped away to cuddle my midwife. 

Until I got behind somebody's dead grandma, who had maxed out her supercool silver whateveritwas at 35 miles per hour.

Surprisingly enough? My blood pressure was still low when the nurse measured me. Also? I lost a pound in the last three weeks. Funny, because my pants are getting a little tight in the waist. Which they should be, after thirty plus weeks of being in the state of grace. Also funny? The maternity pants do not stay up. The normal pants, you know, the ones with a super fancy zipper and button? Fit just fine.

Yes. You heard me right. I AM THIRTY PLUS WEEKS PREGNANT AND I AM STILL WEARING NORMAL PEOPLE JEANS. SIZE 8. No matter what my daughter says.

If you hate me because of that? Well, go ahead and bite me, too. And then, the next time you're pregnant, make friends with a dietitian, and get yourknockedupself on an eating plan. Jackie D...worked for me!!!

Moving on.

HB has gross and itchy and dry patches on his skin.  I used up one tube of the Disney Eczema cream, and before you say it, no, I don't know why Disney makes eczema cream, no, I don't usually purchase Mouse-branded skin products, it came highly recommended from one of my cousins whose child had crazy bad skin, and I give it a one thumb up-one thumb down rating.  Today, I purchased a Doctor Burt's Body Butter, and rubbed it all over the kid after his bath. 

And for the first time in months, he smells pleasant.

Just kidding.  He's just smelled so gawdawful for the last three days, the time has dragged, and it's seemed like months.  And yes, we don't bathe him on purpose because of his skin issues.  Don't judge.

Anyway.  The Doctor Burt's was deemed NICEY NICEY FANCY FANCY by HB.  And that is the highest compliment one can receive from the little fellow.

In other not-so-nicey-nicey-fancy-fancy news,  I have been confounded by the smell of CAT that wafts around the computer room/sewing room/entrance to our home for years.  I have looked.  I have crawled around on the floor, sniffing like a bloodhound.  This smell is not a permanent fixture, it only rears its ugly head in the cold months of the year (October to May).  And it makes me crazy because I can't figure out where the deposit has been made.

Until today.

A few times over the last week, I've heard scritch-scratching around in the cold-air return in the floor.  Now this is not a proper vent, it's actually a grate in the floor that leads to the root cellar/fieldstone walls of the basement/crawlspace place.  It's dark and there are cobwebs.  I don't hang out there, I just know it exists.  Two days ago, I pulled up the vent thingy and looked down there and saw the one cat of our three that I like.  He just looked like he was chillin', possibly hunting something down all useful-like.

But today?  He was crapping.  All PLEASE KILL ME-LIKE.  Now, I didn't see him crapping.  But I know that's what he was doing.  And the guilty look on his stupid kitty face blew him in.  I said the mothereffer word to him (you know the one) and told him it was a good thing he was already under the floorboards or else I'd chop his mothereffing head off and use him for fertilizer.

Did I mention my dose of head meds got upped today?  Because that's what happens when you go batshitcrazy on a cat.  And no, that was not the only reason, and yes, it was only upped a teensytiny bit.

Also, I might get to go to DC to visit Uncle Josh and Auntie Teff and the Nephews in a few weeks.  No, not alone.  With the team, minus The Mister, because he has work and and more work and a musical.  Not just any musical, mind you, The Producers.  Which is Pee Your Pants Funny, even when you're seeing it on one of those day-long bus trips with your in-laws and a whole bunch of really old (read: also uptight) people from church who are, to your surprise, wetting their Depends because they are laughing so hard.

Not that I've ever had an experience like that.

So this run of The Producers is two weeks long, which in my life is like fifty years, and I can't really be in the same house with a guy who is whistling and/or singing Springtime For Hitler every minute of the day that I see him.  Even with a higher dose of happy flowing in my brains, I think it will be too much.  He did The Pirates of Penzance twice in the same year, and for the second occurance, I made a superclassy sign for the front door with a paper grocery bag and a sharpie that said THIS IS A NO MODERN MAJOR GENERAL ZONE AND YOU WILL RESPECT THAT.  I think that only made him want to sing it even more, but he was pleasant and played by the rules.  Good man.

And because you've made it this far, I have a special treat for you.