Week 21

I'm occasionally feeling Braxton-Hicks contractions (as opposed to Braxton-Hayes contractions, which involve audio hallucinations of King Crimson songs). Kinda odd, but nothing serious. Other symptoms I'm currently suffering are skin eruptions that make me resemble something out of the Curse of the Mushroom People, and slight nose bleeds. I promise you, the spate of axe-murders in North Central Alabama have nothing to do with me.

The weekend sucked weather-wise. What little ice we received melted by morning. Jon spent the weekend working on airplanes and I worked on some programming. All nice and yawny. I did find some pictures of our vacation to St. John in 2003 which I should post here eventually. Don't hold your breath.

We recommend this sexy site: muted.com
Which Sesame Street Muppet Are You?

So I'm Snuffleupagus. Allrighty, then.

I'm feeling much better than I have been all week. At times like this I don't get why things felt so awful. Jon and I are still going to go see a counselor, which is good. I am positive that the severity of my depression is progesterone poisoning, but we could use a little help in identifying the triggers of my little episodes. Plus, I have always wanted Jon to talk someone because he's unhappy (with things other than me) and is under a lot of stress for no good reason.

I re-named my blog "Naked Hysterical Screaming" not just because it's something that my favorite redhead once wrote, but because it so not me to behave that way. And now I have been. Well, not really naked, and no screaming. But definite hysterics, theatrics, and drama queenishness. Once I go into labor, that might change.

In other news, I finally found something to do on my long commute to work every morning: I'm brushing up on my Spanish. Hey, it might come in handy some day. Jon has always wanted to market Tandems to the hispanic populations near us (other drop zones have had success marketing to them) but we don't know any fluent spanish-speaking skydivers.

I took just enough linguistics in college to be fascinated by different languages, even though I don't know any. Spanish, like any language, has many words for the same thing. Like I was taught to say "¿Dónde esta el baño?" if I wanted a bathroom, but some places I see it listed as "¿Dónde esta los servicios?" with "servicios" meaning toilets. "Aseos", "excusados", and "inodoros" are other words for toilets. I'm betting some of those words are euphemistic or have more exacting definitions, like 'outhouse' or 'lavatory' - which incidentally I'm wondering if that word is related to the Spanish 'Lavar', to wash. Or what word is "duchar" (to shower) related to? I know always to look out for false cognitives; while I most definitely am "embarazada" that's not what you think it means.

I need to shell out for a really good Spanish-English dictionary (one geared towards Latin-American Spanish). As for "el baño" it should technically be "el cuarto de baño" (cuarto being room). And a bathtub is "bañera". "La bañera", to be exact.

Spanish nouns have gender. I can't find a reason (or a rhyme) for the patterns, but I'm sure there is one. For instance, it's "el baño" but "la bañera" (the bath, the bathtub), "el jabón" but "la jabonera" (the soap, the soapdish) and so on. Yes, my set of vocabulary words last week centered on things you have and can do in the bathroom. "Orinar" is the verb for urinate, "defecar" for the other function.

Yeah, I know, boring. I find it fascinating though. Excúseme, Necesito utilizar el cuarto de baño.

Here is a fairly tame and old joke: A young couple were troubled by their young son. In every way he was a happy, healthy, normal 5 year old, except he didn't talk yet. They took him to many doctors and specialists, but none of them found anything wrong. Then, one day at breakfast, their son said, "the toast is burnt".

The young couple stared at each other for a few seconds, then stood up and danced for joy around the table, hugging and kissing each other and their kid. Finally the father calmed down enough to ask: "Son, why did you wait for so long to say anything?"

The son replied, "well, up to now, everything's been okay."

I told you that to tell you this:

I'm not feeling great today, but I feel good enough to function and that's what matters to me. I have been feeling quite literally lost and now it's like someone finally handed me a map. Now whether or not it's useful is an entirely different matter.

I posted something longer earlier, but I've taken it down for now. I'll try to explain all this later.

Jon is flying down to Florida in our Cessna this morning to confer with our business partner about tax things (ugh), so it's just going to be me, my belly, and our 2 cats for a few days. I'm fixing pot roast as I type in the crock pot because Jon doesn't like pot roast and I love it.

Yesterday when we went in for the checkup/ultrasound, the tech who operates the ultrasound told us we wouldn't be having it because we had one done at UAB and our insurance wouldn't cover it. Jon and I looked at each other for a second, then Jon asked what it would cost if we paid for it ourselves. The tech acted like no one asked that before. Why is it people get all penny-pinching if they have to pay for things out of their pocket? It cost us 80 bucks; well worth it to see the little fella again.

Upon getting gooed on the belly and cranking up the ultrasound, we were greeted by Mini-jon with a beautiful head shot. Turns out he is lying sideways - his head on the left, his butt on the right, with his little arms and legs facing down (if I were standing up, hope that makes sense). Instead of having his legs up and crossed, they were straight out and up in front of him. If he wants to he can suck on his toes, in other words.

I asked the doc about depression. He rolled his eyes and offered me medication. That's the last thing I want. I told him I wanted to talk to someone and if he could refer someone. He told me a little about The Enrichment Center in Decatur, which should call some time today to set up an appointment. After the appointment I told Jon I was pissed at the doc for his behavior; Jon pointed out he probably gets lots of patients that are just making excuses to get medications. Maybe - but jeez act more professional.

As for calling, the more I think about it, the more I get angry. I'm not going to tell a stranger my problems. I know - I keep a blog and write some pretty heavy shit in here but I won't see a counselor.

Week 20: Revenge of the Howler Monkeys.

Not the best weekend I have ever had. I finally have to admit to myself I'm depressed, and I mean that in the clinical sense.

I won't go into details, mainly because I am completely apalled at my behavior Sunday to where it's too embarrasing to talk about. All I know is that if I don't do something about it now, it's not going to get better when the baby comes. It will get worse, most likely.

In trying to talk to Jon, I finally managed to explain to him I'm in this vicious cycle where I get angry and sad at everything and everybody because I feel so isolated. I always try to handle things myself, so when I need help, I don't know how to get it. And because I get so angry and depressed, I'm afraid that if I do try to talk to anybody I'll come across as a complete psycho which makes me clam up even more. And naturally yesterday while talking to him I felt like a complete psycho and I don't know how long anyone can stand being married to someone like that.

In other words: when I go in for my ultrasound/checkup today, I'm going to ask my ob/gyn to refer me to a psychiatrist/psychologist/whatever.

And now for something different: my latest review.

I forgot to mention one incident at Babies R Us Wednesday night: Jon showed a little interest in what was going on as Lisa made recommendations and I scanned items. By the time we had gone full-circle around the store, I was exhausted and had enough. Jon, however, wanted to go into the clothes section. So I handed him the scanner and said "Knock yourself out".

Jon owns four times as many clothes as I do. Clothes to me are to prevent me from being nekkid in public and that's about it. If it's not comfortable I hate to wear it. Jon, on the other hand, while he doesn't "dress up" often, buys clothes like they're going out of style (heh), wears them for a while, then buys some more but won't throw or give anything old away.

I told you that to tell you this: I sat down to rest and he zapped pretty much every single article of clothing made for boys in the store. Every once in a while he would walk back to me, displaying a little outfit, and saying, "this is so cute!"

I would agree, but mainly because I didn't want to fight about it. I kept thinking about how difficult it would be to put that on the little wiggly kid but then I remembered: Jon's going to be the one taking care of him during the day. If he gets pleasure as dressing mini-Jon as a little farmer, or train engineer, or whatever, who am I to deny it?

Several friends who have had boys recently have pledged wardrobe donations, also my brother Ed's future wife Jenn is sending over a boatload of clothes. I have a feeling we will have one outfit for every day of the kid's life for the first 2 years and that's okay!

I am a little worried about this clothing thing; one evening last week Jon rushed into the computer room to show me a picture of a little toddler dressed like a yuppie wall-street broker complete with polished shoes and suspenders. He said "This is soooo cute!! We have got to get our kid a little suit like this!"

I could only stare at the picture and hope our kid doesn't axe-murder us one night while we're sleeping in bed.

Hump Day!

Last night Jon and I met with a very pregnant friend of his (Lisa, 37 weeks) for dinner and a trip to Babies R Us to set up a gift registry. Lisa's very nice and I'm amazed at her energy. She was doing better than I was. After zapping the item codes on just about everything in the store I was completely exhausted. We're going to register at Wal-Mart, as well simply because things there are cheaper and more readily available. Holy crap I didn't know children came with so many accessories!

Lisa is single and has a fortuitous job working at a daycare center for employees of Nasa. Even though this is her first child, she has had a good deal of experience with babies and gave me a lot of useful advice. She also gave us an extra car seat, stroller, and some wierd baby torture-rack looking device with a lot of thingies and doohickeys attached.

Our friend and employee (she works manifest at the drop zone) Stacey has started making arrangements for a baby shower. The tentative date is April 1st, which is a Friday. We're going to hold it at the dz.

And for my brother's benefit: I registered a good deal of noisy toys. Personally I want the toy that meows and vibrates violently.

The next big milestone is of course feeling the baby move. I may be feeling that but I'm having a tough time telling if it's the kid, gas, muscle spasms, or just plain imagination.

My subconcious is getting too wierd; last night I dreamt I accidentally clicked on a popup window which took me to a site playing Russian pop music videos. No matter what I did, even unplugging the computer, I couldn't shut it off. Now I get the symbolism (loss of control) but damn. Russian pop music?

I get the attraction to American Idol, but I don't get the masochistic urges of people who audition for the show. The ones who get immediately Gonged in the tryouts especially are psychotic as well as narcissistic.

I was playing Neverwinter Nights last night and I tried not to listen in, but Jon kept hitting the pause button on the TiVo, calling me over, and saying "listen to this loser!" It was apalling but part of me was deeply amused. I'm not particularly fond of laughing at people who are publicly humiliated but my god what were they thinking?

I seem to be getting sucked into watching more and more television, thanks to the Evil Goodness of TiVo. Not only do I watch 24 and CSI, but CSI:NY and now Battlestar Galactica. The new version on the SciFi channel is actually quite compelling to the geek in me. I have no problems with the female Starbuck. She's my favorite part of the series. Edward James Olmos can of course act better in his sleep than Lorne Greene ever could and he makes a great Commander Adama. The guy who plays Apollo is a bit white bread but he plays him like a guy with a stick up his butt (as opposed to completely comatose the way Richard Hatch played him in the 70's) so there's potential for some character development there. And yeah, there's some unresolved sexual tension between Starbuck and Apollo - so what? I recall that being the case in the original 70's show, too.

And yeah, I like the Cylons. Battlestar Galactica was where I first coined the term "needs more exploding robots" and these Cylons are far more insidious. Plus, they blow up real good, too. And the Vipers don't bank to turn! They use these small jet-thingys to change position. Someone studied rudimentary physics, hooray! Not me, of course.

In haste I linked to a sanitized version of the murder of the Coptic Christians yesterday. Here is a more informative article, though it doesn't go into any detail about the 8-year old. She had her throat cut and was stabbed repeatedly, as well.

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr's birthday; also known by me as the "Shut up or I'll Kill You" Memorial Holiday. Disagreeing with someone is one thing; calling him or her a "poopyhead" or worse is one thing; killing them to shut them up is in a class of evil all by itself. Every MLK day we should congratulate people who don't listen to bullies and thugs, especially when the price is their life.

So this year's "Shut up or I'll Kill You" Defiance award goes to all the brave Iraqi people who are going to vote despite the assholes who are terrorizing them. I hope everything works out for them and their country.

The latest victims of this practice would seem to be the Coptic Christians who were murdered in New Jersey. Islamists are strongly suspected. Check out the job the murderers did on the 8-year-old girl.

On to far less important things:

Week 19:
I am feeling great! Thank you. My worst symptom at the moment is I'm breaking out on my face and neck. I'll take this problem any day over athsma. As you can see by my sickeningly sweet counter, I am 2 days away from being halfway there. Hooray!

Jon bought a knock-off mattress topper that's supposed to be like those Tempa-pedic things a while back. We took it off the bed when we both decided it was *too* soft. We put it back recently and I found it to be quite comfortable. Jon couldn't get used to it so our compromise was to fold it in half and I sleep on it. I was sleeping quite well last night in all that squishy goodness.

I slept a lot on Monday and I had a bunch of dreams. I will give my subconcious a few points for effort for some of my dreams; I dreamt I was on a long road trip from Missouri to Georgia and I remember stopping about halfway through the trip. The points go for a stab at subtle symbolism; halfway there - I get it subconcious. The Missouri reference was a nice touch (I was born there). Georgia I can only imagine was because I lived there for a long while.

Then with no sublety whatsoever, I had a dream I was swimming in the Caribbean sea. Usually when I have these dreams I can swim underwater like a fish. I could breathe underwater in this one but I had a hard time kicking my legs. I don't think this was symbolic in any manner: when I woke up there was a big-assed kitty sleeping on my legs. I miss the Caribbean.

Speaking of, Ed and Jenn are toying with the idea of Honeymooning in St. Thomas. Personally I think they should vacation in St. John, but anywhere in the Virgin Islands is going to rock. Take me with you!!! Actually since they are going in late May that might not be such a good idea.

I had a completely different experience yesterday: Jon was sick! He never gets sick! I realize he doesn't have my years of experience w/ medications, but I consider it amazing that he woke up at all. He had congestion and he wanted to sleep well so he took Nyquil after several beers.

So yesterday he felt like poop w/ headache, upset stomach and a temperature of around 101. I decided not to call him a dumbass but I told him to let me know if there was anything I could bring him. He asked me to bring him some ice cream after work.

I bought him some moose tracks and there he was, all wrapped up on the couch looking miserable. I put the ice cream away and started cleaning up the kitchen. All of a sudden a petulant cry of "Ice Cream!!!" came from the living room. So instead of saying "hold your horses, dumbass!" I brought him a bowl. This does not bode well for the future, when I'm going to have 2 of them in the house.

His fever broke and he feels much better today.

So now that I know my baby isn't a genetic mutant resembling something from It's Alive!, I'm starting to spend way too much time daydreaming about raising him. Sometimes I have the belltower scenario in mind (See Parenthood) and other times it's the Magna Cum Laude scenario (See the same). I'm trying to be realistic but it's tough to be when it's something you have never experienced before.

The next milestone will be the 20 week ultrasound (on the 24th of this month) and after that I will be waiting for that point where the fetus will be mostly viable outside the womb. I can't remember what it is: 34 weeks? I'll have to look. It's amazing how much more cheerful I feel. I know the amnio does not guarantee the baby will be %100 perfect, but it has put my mind at ease.

Hooray! The amniocentesis results for our little mini-Jon returned normal! Hooray! I must poing around the room and do a happy dance!

*Poing!* *poing!* *poing!*

Ahem. Okay, much calmer now. What I wrote below I wrote just before I got the call. Oh! It's confirmed: he's a he.

Random Thought Day:

Today is the first day in a long time where I'm feeling %100. My athsma is in check, I'm not coughing up a lung, and my tummy doesn't ache. Yay! So naturally I'm wondering what's going to go wrong next.

No news on my amnio, except I received a letter from the UAB Genetics Lab stating that there was no evidence of Cystic Fibrosis in the testing. Well, that's good news. Would you folks kindly finish up the rest of the testing so I can relax? Or freak completely out, whatever the case may be? Dammit.

Jon really, really likes the name Connor. I don't like it, but I can deal with it if that's what he wants. Maybe I could talk him into naming it Jonathan Connor. It would amuse me to no end to have a son named John Connor.

Of course I'm kidding.

I recall reading a science fiction short story many years ago about an isolated space colony that had problems because messages sent to and received from Earth took a great deal of time. Their problems were solved when someone pointed out that all both sides had to do was "just keep talking". That story reminds me of blogging in general. Everyone just keeps talking (and we can listen and respond if we want to, something we never got from newspapers or tv).

I stepped on the scale today and I panicked because I weighed 164 and I haven't gained anything in a few weeks. What the *hell*?

We're now watching season 4 of 24 and I promise not to spoil it. It's wierd having to wait a week for the next ep. It certainly got off the ground with a bang. One thing is for certain: no one will ever accuse Jack Bauer of not having any balls.

I'm feeling listless so Vasquez and Big Fat Kitty promised to fill in.

Vasquez: Meow everybody. Mom's getting kind of big in the old belly there. I wonder what she ate? Can I have some?

BFK: Ooo, me too!

Vasquez: When I'm not sleeping I see mom and dad talking (my fang-reading is getting pretty good) and I think they might have a new cat in her belly. Those two have nubby little fangs. How do they catch all those food cans?

BFK: Oh no! She ate a cat?

Vasquez: What? No, I don't think she *ate* it; I think she's going to have it.

BFK: Mom's having kittens?

Vasquez: What?? Yes, I think she's having kittens.

BFK: Ooo. Someone new to play with! Do you think mom will let me clean their ears?

Vasquez: Probably. I hope so. Maybe you'll leave me alone.

BFK: Maybe they will look like me!

Vasquez: Nah; I met a human kitten a while back and they aren't that furry. You could have met her too if you didn't get so scared.

BFK: Oooh! Hey, wanna play with this roll of paper towels?

Vasquez: Knock yourself out, fatboy.

Week 18

Yeah, I know. Wasn't last week Week 18? Well, apparently I miscounted, as you can see by my counter. So this is the latter part of week 18. Hey, I *did* take Calc II in college and passed. I made B's through all of my math classes basically because I can't add. So sue me.

And *still* no news of my amniocentesis, dammit. The Ob/gyn nurse promised to call the minute the results arrived. Gr.

As for my athsma, it seems to be in good check so far. I take my last dose of Prednisone tonight and I have another appointment with Dr. Krishna tomorrow afternoon. I'll be able to tell if the local cortocosteroid I'm taking (pulmicort) is finally doing its job by Wednesday.

I am currently having tummyaches due to being plugged up pretty bad following the athsma incidents. If it's not one thing, it's another.

I'm not too sure I'm going to take Nancy's advice and practice dressing Big Fat Kitty in preparation for dressing a toddler. He is a gentle and loving kitty, but he does have sharp claws and pointy teeth.

I'm enjoying the Zombie Survival Guide. It's hilarious in that it is totally dead straightforward in it's advice. There's no tongue-in-cheek humor; no subtle winks at its intended audience. It's by far some of the best zombie fan fiction I've read in a long time. I especially like its timeline of zombie attacks through history: it nicely weaves wierd incidents and mass disappearances into the timeline like the disappearance of the first settlement at Roanoke. And hey, should the zombie holaucast finally happen, *I'll* be prepared!

Hm. I'm going to have to lock up my flesh-eating zombie movies eventually, aren't I?

zombie

zombie
Originally uploaded by Sandra Maynard.

I hate to use a web cliche, but my brother gave this to me and this is the Best. Christmas present. Ever.

2 Guys

DSC02023
Originally uploaded by Sandra Maynard.

Boy I'm in a photo mood. Here's one of my handsome husband and his big fat kitty's big fat ass.

I hope I didn't scare ya too badly. Or at least not put you off your lunch. In Nancy's case, if I did, I'm just helping her make some money. Post *that* on your fridge for inspiration!

Like I said, I'm proud of that belly!

I have been reading other people's blogs about pregancy. I need to see if there are any out there from expecting fathers. Duh! I need to read Lileks' blog before Gnat was born.

Ahyhow, humans have spent soooo much time having children since we got out of the hominid stage; why is this process such a huge cause for hardcore opinions and conniption fits? You think we would have it down to an artform. My stupid little opinionated theory is because since the hominid stage we have such big heads that we just aren't completely evolved enough to handle birthing easily. Hey, don't give me crap about that. Everybody has kneecaps and a spine, and don't tell me we couldn't use a little redesigning in those areas! Not to mention wisdom teeth and appendixes.

So having a kid hurts; having a kid wreaks havoc on any woman's body no matter how young, healthy, and fit she is. So I'm not going to get all hot and bothered by any woman who wants to circumnavigate 'natural' childbirth. Our huge noggins, while being a source of woman's discomfort, is also an evolutionary (or god-given, I'm not picky) plus in finding ways around long-term problems.

What I'm saying is that the fear, the sickness, the stress, and all that pain is natural in a normal, healthy pregnancy. I'm also saying that botulism is natural but I don't necessarily want that, either. I read one woman pillory other women who want to induce labor or get an elective caesarian. I won't go that far - I'll only get a caesarian if the doc thinks it's necessary. But I sure as *hell* am going to get an epidural if at all possible! But I'm not going to get all self-righteous towards those women. There are consequences to our actions and we will pay for them.

And I have pretty much decided on bottle feeding. I am going to go back to work; Jon will be taking care of junior in the day during the week so we need to go ahead and tag-team. I want what's best for the child but everything is a series of compromises. If I took no other factors into account, the best thing for the kid would be for me to quit my job and for Jon to quit the drop zone and to get a full-time engineering job so I could stay at home and take care of the child full time. Be real; that's not going to happen and ultimately I think both of us would be misearable. In the long run I'm thinking Mini-Jon would grow up happier this way; with a father who is more involved in his life. Hell, it's working for Lileks. We shall see.

Am I rambling today! More rambles: went to Dr. Krishna's for a follow- up. I was doing fine until Thursday and that concerned him: I have no signs or symptoms of a respitory infection of any sort despite all the congestion. Every thing I hack up is white; I have no redness or swelling in my sinuses, ears or throat. He suspects my lapse back on Thursday was because I am no longer using Prednisone - an oral steroid (or corticosteroid) which was prescribed to me by the emergency room doctor to kick-start the inhaled corticosteroid I'm taking for athsma - Pulmicort. He gave me a small prescription for more Prednisone basically to keep me breathing to give the Pulmicort more time to be effective. Corticosteroids are produced by the body to reduce inflammation, by the way.

I started today okay - then went on a coughing binge (which induced a round of puking. BLAH!) just before work along with an athsma bout; but right now I'm doing fine. I slept on the couch so I could sleep with my head propped up and I slept well. Jon is really concerned about me and the baby and wants to go with me the next time I see the doc (Tuesday).

Photo day: 2 Cats and a Belly:

Kitty! 

Kitty! 

Belly! (Told you it was scary) 

Allrighty then. I woke up about 2pm and my athsma was worse. Not as bad as last Thursday but still I'm sucking wind so to speak. I have an appointment w/ Dr. Krishna this evening anyway.

I left the house at my normal time to go to work, got into a hacking fit, pissed myself, so I drove back home to change my clothes. Ah, the sweet mysteries, bliss, and euphoria of pregnancy! How icky.

While I changed, Jon googled for info on pregnancy and pants-wetting. After adjusting his search to weed out the umpteen-billion porn sites, he found this blog by a pregnant woman. She's in her 38th week of pregancy and about to pop (in more ways than one). Jon says he went looking for it because he wanted me to see that many pregnant women have this problem. Well, I *know* that and it was sweet of him to try to make me feel better.

Later on (once I changed and managed to make it to work without further mishap but I coughed so hard I puked this time; thank goodness I had had nothing to eat or drink yet so I basically puked up all that phlegm I had been coughing - am I making you sick? Sorry), Jon emailed me that he was a lucky man, because he read more of that woman's blog and he said "she is a raving lunatic, her husband must be scared to death". Bless his heart - I'm only at 18 weeks! We'll see how psycho I get 3 - 4 months from now, muahahaha!

The most fun blog I've read about pregnancy/baby stuff is one that Nancy links to: Dooce's blog is great. She has had her kid allready and she has posted a great deal about poop. Well worth perusing!

Anyways, like the little baby counter at the top of my blog? It was too handy/cute to pass up.

I took a picture of my belly, but some pictures are too scary to post.

I have 2 new links if you look. One is to the only political blog that I really like. He's slightly to the right, somewhat of a small l libertarian on many issues, and loves to post recipes and other non-political stuff. And he's a real blogger, in the sense that most of his voluminous entries are links to interesting stuff on the web.

The other is to my brother Ed's new blog. I'm making it a permanent link in the hope that I can shame him into keeping this one up.

Jon and I have decided to sell our house in Decatur. The last people who rented were decent and responsible; it was a single mom and her two children and she did her best to pay us but ultimately her hours were cut back and she couldn't make the rent. She moved out in December. She didn't stiff us and the place was intact.

We have been going insane trying to find new renters. Most are hispanic folks with very little english who want to pay us up front but aren't able to fill out the rent applications. It's not that they can't read the application it's that they don't have the references or credit history. Very frustrating. Every 2 out of 3 people ask us about section 8 housing; the other one tries to talk us down or bargain ("we'll pay you the deposit when we get our taxes back").

The last straw was the asshole kid who took a bb gun to our windows. I told Jon let's sell before some kids break in and use it as a crack house. Sorry, not feeling very compassionate today.

No test results yet. Perhaps early next week. Bleck.

Besides a routine checkup (including getting to listen to the baby's heartbeat), the ob/gyn visit was nothing to write about. I was hooked up with an athsma specialist who was conveniently a block and a half away. He has *the greatest* name of any doctor I have ever visited: Dr. Shiva Krishna. It's even better than my allergist, Dr. Loki Odin.

Anyway, nice doctor. He reviewed my athsma history with me, looked over what the emergency room docs had prescribed me, made some recommendations and I took a test to measure lung volume. Lets just say if it were a graded test I would have failed miserably. I'm going back Thursday to see how the meds are doing in controlling my athsma.

I will say I'm feeling well enough to exercise, even though I'm still somewhat congested. Jon and I used our new weight bench/cage; we didn't have to modify our routines much so we're happy for the most part. We're going to buy some dumbells and that should round out our workouts.

We had an uninvited guest in our fireplace last night. I was lounging on the couch, half out of it w/Big Fat Kitty lying on my legs when I heard screeching and scurrying. Jon came out of the computer room and we tried to figure out where the noise came from. Then we heard some more scuttling sounds.

We have a woodburning stove in our fireplace; Jon carefully opened one door and peeked inside. He hurriedly shut the door and said "there's something in there!"

I found a flashlight and we did some more peeking and finally figured out it was a squirrel. I went and got a pet taxi and Jon tried to coax it into the carrier. No dice, so Jon put on a pair of work gloves and a heavy coat and fished it out of the fireplace. Little bastard went postal and tried to bite Jon but we got him into the taxi.

He carried him outside and dumped him on the front lawn. The squirrel disappeared in a cloud of ash and ran up a neighbor's tree. Your welcome and good riddance, you flea-bitten rabid rat!

Big Fat Kitty, of course, carefully watched the proceedings from the top of a chair at the farthest corner of the living room.

Week 18
Wow. 2 more weeks and I'll be halfway there.

Today I'm going in for an ob/gyn checkup; I don't know if my amniocentesis results will be in but they should be. It's been 2 weeks. A friend lent me her copy of What to Expect the First Year which shall be my waiting room reading material of choice today. I have skimmed through some of it and this book seems to be on the side of "let baby do what he/she wants or you'll destroy his/her self-esteem". Granted, a new-born can't do much anyway but cry, eat, sleep, and poop. Holy mackarel, there's a lot of contradictory advice and vehement opinions out there on how to raise your child. I think I'll just give up and let the cats raise him.

I'm just thinking about all the kids I see run rampant in restaurants, theaters, and other public places. I just don't understand how disciplining a 1 to 2-year-old monster is going to ruin his self-esteem. The big question is *how* to discipline something that can't completely understand what you are doing. Yikes I have a lot of reading to do.

It's a damn shame I can't do to the kid what I do to Big Fat Kitty. When he gets caught in the bathroom destroying toilet tissue, I get a spray bottle w/water and hit him with a few squirts. Someday he's going to figure out that it's not acid but in the meantime this form of discipline also provides a few cruel laughs. It doesn't work on Vasquez, but she never does anything bad anyway.

Happy New Year!

The following is part of a modified email I sent Nancy. It pretty much covers the last little bit of 2004 that I wish to record for posterity or until the server crashes.

I had a bad scare Thursday. I felt okay in the morning, so I helped Jon assemble a weightlifting set (a christmas present). I got so winded I couldn't get my breath back. I tried for a long time to get control but about 9pm I asked Jon to drive me into Decatur to the emergency room. I described it to the emergency room doc as 'running a marathon then smoking an entire carton of cigarettes all at once'.

I received a bunch of treatments and was able to sleep well Thursday night. Yesterday I was okay as long as I took it easy. I irritated my bronchial passages so bad it has aggravated my coughing and any time I stand up and move around I start coughing bad. I can breathe though.

Let me tell about something else that happened Thursday night before I gave up and went to the emergency room: Jon had some friends over and one couple has an 18 month old toddler who has never really seen a cat up close.

Big Fat Kitty of course fled the scene, but when Vasquez saw the little girl (who was staring hard at her) she walked over, gave her that 'are you going to pet me or what?' look, and started nonchalantly cleaning her paws. I went over to Summer and explained that the cat wouldn't hurt her and showed her how to gently pet the kitty.

She gave kitty 2 tenuous pats, and Vasquez started purring and bumped her head against Summer's legs. The look of delighted astonishment on Summer's face was so sweet! This activity went on for about 10 minutes (pet-pet -- bump. pet-pet -- bump). It was fun to watch. Both Summer's mom and I were watching closely because Summer is rambunctious and I was afraid that if she did any tail pulling Vasquez might demonstrate that five of a cat's six ends are pointy. But they got along
great.

Vasquez is so old (going to be 20 this year) I'm afraid she won't be around when Mini-Jon arrives. That makes me sad. I couldn't have asked for a better kitty.

Friday I slept as much as I could, then I went to the drop zone about 4pm after picking up 100 chicken wings at Zaxby's for the annual DZ party. I did fine but occasionally I had to run to the bathroom because I was coughing so bad I was afraid I was going to piss myself. One other woman was there; a girlfiend of a jumper and we were coughing in stereo. Turns out she's pregant too! She's at 11 weeks. I hope her and her jumper can keep it together for the baby's sake.

Every new year's a group of jumpers jump at midnight and this year was no different. Despite predicted rain and cloudy skies the cieling was above 12,000 feet and broken and the moon came out just about jump time. I did my traditional thing; I met Jon in the landing area when he landed (him looking cool as always) and handed him a refreshing alcoholic beverage, we smooched, and I told him "Happy New Beer!" I also had a glass of champagne. Hey! Just one! Don't look at me like that!

Do I have any resolutions? A few: be as good to myself as possible for Mini-Jon's sake (and Jon's and mine), and to work hard on getting back into shape once the baby arrives. I have been blogging for more than a year; I hope to keep it up but make it more entertaining.

Oh! My latest review: Mystery Science Theater 3000 volume 6. I'm reviewing Troy next.