Does your boss know what you do?

So, my boss has started calling people in for interviews to replace me while I'm on maternity leave. I overheard some of his phone conversations yesterday, and let me tell you, it is a very interesting experience to hear your boss describe your job to somebody else.

First, he grossly underestimated how many hours this person will be required to work. Then he kept using the phrase "it's pretty easy" over and over. I wanted to tell him that if he thinks it's so easy, maybe HE should have been there at 2 a.m. the night before, painstakingly photo-shopping words off of washers and dryers and fridges out of a flyer for the local Sears dealer's ad.

So when he got off the phone, I told him that he really needed to tell people that I work more than 35 hours a week. "You do?" was his response. "Um, yes. A lot more, actually." He was kind of stunned. Apparently he had no idea that I come back to work every Monday night after supper and stay until at least 10 p.m. And he had no idea that hubby and I don't even take a supper break on Tuesdays -- we just order in and keep working until at least midnight. On a busy week, much more.

So after I tell him all this, his answer to the problem is that he will just call me on the weeks that it's really busy and I can come in and help, so he doesn't have to pay the new person for all the extra hours.

I'm in very, very big trouble.

(Did I mention that hubby and I own shares in this particular newspaper? Just in case you're wondering why on earth we would show such loyalty to our employers).

Oh the weather outside is frightful…

So it's about 6 bazillion degrees below zero outside today, and the snow just keeps on coming. I am sitting at work, trying to concentrate, but all I want to do is go home and decorate my house for Christmas. I want to make some gingerbread cookies and some hot chocolate, put on some Christmas music, and make my house look all festive and bright.

I know, I know. It's not even December yet. But it's snowing and beautiful outside! Airdrie had it's Santa Claus parade on Saturday, and the Festival of Lights has already started in the big park in the middle of the city. Come on -- can't I just put up my Christmas tree? How about a wreath on my front door?

Okay, okay. I guess I can wait one more week. But in the meantime, do what I did and have fun making yourself into a South Park character!

Go to: www.sp-studio.de and create away!

Attack of the Hormones

I had a really super hormonal breakdown/allergy attack yesterday.

It was a super duper crappy day from start to finish, so when, at 10:30 p.m. I was putting away the groceries I had just bought and the shelf on my refrigerator door fell onto my foot and everything scattered around the floor, I had had enough.

I yelled, I threw things, (which scared the crap out of my poor kitties), then sat down in tears. I don't generally do things like that. It was kind of unsettling. Which made it even worse -- I pride myself on being the kind of person who thrives under pressure. I don't cry when things don't go my way -- ever! What good will that do? No, I just find a way to fix the problem, and get on my with day. But not yesterday. Nope, yesterday I was one of those pansy girls who cry at the drop of a hat -- and I HATE those girls.

Luckily, my sweet hubby came and fixed things up, then made me cuddle up with him on the couch until all was right with the world again.

So, things seem much better today. Gotta go though. In-laws are coming over this afternoon and my house is a disaster area. How fast can I clean an entire house? Well, I guess I'll see. My plan is to start with downstairs, where we will spend most of our time, and if I don't get all of upstairs done I just won't let them up there…

The 36-pager

Fellow newspaper slaves, please give me your sympathy on this cold, Alberta day. I have just finished production on a 28 page newspaper AND an 8-page special section that is about 95% advertising. All. By. Myself.

Yes, that's right. I made the dummy and the template pages TWICE because SOMEONE changed their mind, managed to appease the customer from HELL, designed every ad that you'll find in those 36 pages, compiled the classifieds, made the PDFs of the pages and uploaded them to the press -- and I did it all in three and a half days. Oh, and did I mention that at this particular newspaper, I also have to email or fax all the proofs myself and keep track of the corrections? And answer the phone and watch the front desk when the receptionist is busy on Monday and Tuesday and when we don't have a receptionist on Wednesdays? And answer all the emails in our general inquiry account? And on and on and on…

I worked until midnight on Sunday & Monday, and until 2 a.m. on Tuesday, but by God I got it done!

Looks like pages are done uploading. Better go home and eat something.

Only 67 days until baby gets here and my NEW stressful, round the clock job begins…

I need food ideas!!!!

I need some new recipes. I am sick and tired of making the same things for supper all the time. But it's hard to make new things at my house. EATING is hard at my house. You see, I am allergic to all things dairy; and hubby is allergic to fruits and vegetables. Okay, he's not technically allergic to fruits and vegetables. But he refuses to eat any but a select few, so he might as well be.

Why don't I just MAKE him eat them, you ask? I figure he's an adult, and if he really finds fruits and vegetables THAT repulsive, then it's not worth my time and energy to make him. I figure I wouldn't appreciate it if someone was always bugging me to eat something I hated. (My children, on the other hand, will be a completely different story.)

But since we have very different tastes in what is good and what is not, sometimes it's hard to find things that we both like. If it was up to me, we would eat a small portion of lean meat and a heaping plateful of vegetables for supper every night. If it was up to hubby, we would eat a steak large enough to take up the entire plate every night - no need to make anything to go with it. Steak and steak alone is hubby's idea of supper perfection.

But since you can't eat steak for supper EVERY night, (actually, hubby's father raises cattle and we get a freezer full for free every year. So technically, we COULD eat steak every night if we wanted. But I digress…) I need to come up with some mutually agreed upon things to bring us a little variety. Usually hubby is very receptive to anything that has a lot of melted cheese on top of it, and so I used to make it despite my allergy and just take some antihistamines. But since I'm pregnant I can't have antihistamines anymore, so anything with cheese is out.

And so I think I've been making the same five or six things for supper since the day the two little lines on the stick turned pink. And I'm bloody sick and tired of them.
Anybody got any good ideas? Because I can't eat spaghetti and meat sauce one more time. I just can't.

Here are my limitations. Anything I make for supper cannot contain any of the following ingredients:
- Any milk products whatsoever.
- Almost any kind of fruit or vegetable (with the exception of tomatoes, corn, peppers or mushrooms)
- Any kind of cream or mushroom sauce
- Any kind of fish. Seafood is okay, but fish is not.

See my problem? Between the two of us, it's impossible to come up with a variety of foods to eat. He will not eat soups, stews, casseroles or anything that might have vegetables lurking in them. I can't eat cream sauce, and he won't eat mushroom sauce. Tuna casserole? Nope. The yummy salmon rolls my mom makes? Nope. Tacos? Only good with cheese and sour cream, so nope. Pizza? Nope. Fish & Chips? Nope.

AAARRRGGG!!!!!!

(Before you get worried that I'm depriving little Gracie of fruits and vegetables, I fill up on them all day. Breakfast is always a fresh fruit vitamin smoothie, lunch is always accompanied by some sort of fruit and a vegetable, and my afternoon snack is usually an apple and some low-fat goat's milk cheese. Hubby and I eat separate things for breakfast and lunch, but I don't have enough time or energy in my schedule to make two separate suppers too).

Keener!!!

Oh my god. I've turned into a Keener. You know, the brown-noser everyone in the class hated because she always had her hand up and answered all of the teacher's questions? That was me, yesterday, at our Childbirth Essentials class. I was completely obnoxious. I even made a joke about the Scientology silent births when the instructor was talking about not being afraid to make as much noise as you want.

I sure have changed since going to high school. Back then I knew a lot of the answers, but I would have NEVER put up my hand -- that would have involved actually speaking in front of the whole class. And what if I was wrong and everybody laughed at me? Nope, better just to keep my mouth shut.

But this weekend, I just couldn't help myself. She asked the questions, and I just opened my mouth and answered. Out loud!

And apparently all my reading has paid off. I knew pretty much everything she had to tell us, except for all the relaxation techniques. So really, I wasted a Friday night and all day Saturday, not to mention $110. I think it was worth it for hubby though. While I've been busy reading up on childbirth to prepare myself for the very slim chance that hubby might freak out and I'll be doing it all by myself, hubby has remained blissfully unaware of episiotomies and emergency c-sections. I think it was a bit of an eye-opener for him. But I also think it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, and so I am confident that I will have him there with me the whole time. Yay!

Super Expansion

Okay, my stomach is doing some serious stretching today.

Remember that Friends episode where Joey ate an entire 20 lb turkey all by himself? That's how my stomach feels today.

Maybe Gracie's got her little hands and feet all stretched out and is pushing outwards as hard as she can to see if she can get herself a little more space in there. I can just picture her - her little face all scrunched up in concentration, pushing outwards in any direction she can. Could be true - who knows?

All I know is that I can actually feel my stomach expanding, and it's a very weird feeling.

What a sweetie…

I have the bestest husband ever!

At lunch, while I was hiking up my stupid maternity pants for the 4000th time today and laughing at myself as I did so, hubby said:

"I'm really gonna miss you like this."

Me: "Big and fat and ugly?"

Him: "No, that you've always got a smile on your face now."

Altogether everybody: AAAWWW!

My heart just melted. But he's right. I do always have perma-grin these days. I just can't help it. I've waited so long for this little girl to get here, and now that she's nearly here I just can't stop smiling. Even the crappiest day is made better when I rub the big belly and feel the kicking. It's like I'm a kid again and I'm so excited for Christmas that I can't sleep -- only about a thousand times more.

I think I'm gonna make hubby his favorite chocolate chip cookies tonight and do a few other things to show him how much I love it when he says things like that…

By popular request…

Okay everybody. Here you go. I've been resisting posting a pregnant Denice photo because, well, I've hated every picture ever taken of me, except for the one I use for my blog profile. I always think I'm looking pretty good until someone takes my picture, and then I think UUGG! Does my chin really stick out that far? Did I forget to put make-up on this morning?

Plus, until last week I didn't have much of a bump to show off. I mean, there was definitely one there, but if you didn't know me and know that I was pregnant, you would probably just think I've packed on quite a few pounds lately.

But then two weeks ago I was absolutely RAVENOUS for a week and ate everything that crossed my path, and my stomach expanded exponentially overnight. Honestly. I wore the same pair of pants two days in a row, and on Thursday they would cover my tummy, but on Friday I had to wear the big band under my tummy because they wouldn't even come CLOSE to covering it.

So now there is definitely a good-sized bump to show off! And after scaring her yesterday, Gracie moved around so much that I think she changed position. I used to get kicked up high on my right side, but I've been getting kicked much lower and on the left side since yesterday morning. And I have this really hard round spot on my right side that kind of sticks out that didn't use to be there. I've been trying to decide if it's a bum or a head, but I don't know which. How do you tell?

I have to say, I'm having so much fun being pregnant. I've been really lucky to have a very easy pregnancy so far. I didn't throw up once, I've only had one cold that I had to suffer through without any medication, my back doesn't hurt yet and my feet only get a little bit swollen if I forget to get up and walk around a bit while I'm at work. My rib cage hurts a little at the end of the day, but it's not really enough to complain about. I've gained more weight than I would like, but fortunately I love to exercise so I know I can work that off later. I've still got 12 more weeks to go though. Maybe check back and see if I'm still this positive in January!

Until then, it's just so much fun to rub my tummy and talk to baby. And I'm starting to get really impatient about seeing her and getting life started with her. I know 12 weeks is still quite a way off, but like our new and very young reporter said this morning, "the weeks sure go by faster when you work at a newspaper!" And they really do. You are working so hard on such a short deadline that the days just fly by and you wonder where all the time went. So when I say I've only got 12 weeks left, people chuckle, but it feels like barely any time at all to me!

Good Reflexes . . . Check!

So, my life as a kind and loving mother is not getting off to a great start.
I accidentally scared the crap out of my unborn child this morning.

How on earth did I do that, you ask?

Well, for the last couple of years I've been using my cell phone's alarm clock function to wake me up in the morning. Our clock radio stays on hubby's side of the bed because he has to listen to the radio all night to sleep and I prefer quiet. And since we have to get up at different times in the morning, rather than reach over top of him, I've been setting my cell phone alarm on my side of the bed for me. It beeps and it vibrates at the same time and make a great big racket. It's pretty effective, actually.

But this morning I just wasn't ready to get up yet when it went off, so after I frantically grabbed for the snooze button to make the ringing and the buzzing stop, I absent-mindedly set it on my great big tummy and went back to sleep. And ten minutes later, it went off again while sitting on my tummy.

Which of course scared the crap out of my child. Poor Gracie made one of those startled jumps -- as much as you can when you're cramped into such a small space -- and then she started kicking the crap out me. Much like her father when you try to wake him up in the morning, come to think of it…

Anyway, I felt AWFUL! It's probably not fun to be all nice and cozy and sound asleep and then have your home suddenly start to vibrate and beep. I'm pretty sure I'd be doing some kicking too. At least we know her hearing and her reflexes work just fine!

Crazy week

Well, it's a good thing that I didn't sign up for National Blog Posting Month. I had originally planned to take part in the contest, in which the only thing you really had to do was post on your blog every single day in November and you could possibly win some prizes.

But it's November 4 and had I signed up, I'd already be disqualified because this is my first November post. Oh well. I had one of those crazy weeks that were good and bad at the same time.

A week ago, my husband's grandmother died. But then my nephew Max was born! So I took the afternoon off work Monday and whipped down to Lethbridge to see brand new baby boy. But then Tuesday I had to work until 3:30 a.m. to get all my work done, and then get up early Wednesday because it was my turn to open the office (it's a 6 person office, and we all take turns on who actually has to be there at 9 a.m. to open the doors. Nice, huh?). The paper was done and sent to press at 7:30 p.m., then I jumped into my car and raced to Calgary before Motherhood Maternity closed because Grandma Betty's funeral was Thursday and I had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO WEAR. Not the "I hate everything in my closet and I need new clothes" nothing to wear. But the "my tummy somehow expanded three sizes in one week and now none of my pants cover my tummy and none of my sweaters are long enough to cover the gap" nothing to wear. I made it just in time, came home and crashed.

The less said about funeral day the better. Let's just say it was not a fun day.

Then yesterday, I was just exhausted. After work I crashed, and I crashed hard. I need so much more sleep these days again. I've hit the third trimester and I'm almost as tired as I was in the first. But not quite. At least I haven't fallen asleep at my desk at work yet.

So today is super laundry day! And wash all the floors, clean out the fridge, take the bottles to the recycle depot, and organize baby's room day. And if I have time I'm going to take my film of Max to get developed and post some unbelievably cute baby pictures for all to see! (Yes, I know. I'm the very last person left on earth still using a film camera.)

Goodbye Grandma Betty

Last night, the world lost a sweet and wonderful lady. My hubby's grandma passed away at the age of 74, after a very full and beautiful life. She was a farm wife who raised five kids, wrote a regular newspaper column that appeared in a number of Central Alberta weeklies, spent a few years in Africa in the 70's teaching farmers about new farming practices, and wrote a bunch of books about her life experiences. She was also an accomplished painter to boot.

When I met her 6 years ago, she hadn't yet had any strokes, and was still out on the farm. She drove an 80s era sports car with a T-roof, and was full of energy and spunk. I'm so glad I got to meet that lady. Because a few short months later she had a stroke, and then over the years she had another, and then another. And each one debilitated her a little bit more until she was in a wheelchair, one whole side of her body paralyzed and blind in one eye. And I could tell she was miserable not being the independent lady she used to be.

She had a massive heart attack a few days ago, and after being in the hospital in intensive care for a few days, she passed away peacefully in her sleep. Goodbye Grandma Betty. I wish I had gotten to know you better -- I can tell you left an indelible mark on those who did.

’Tis the Season?

For the first time in my life, I have started Christmas shopping early. Yes, I'm well on my way to becoming one of those annoyingly smug people who brag about being done their Christmas shopping on December 1.

Why the Christmas zeal this year? Because I don't want to waddle through the packed malls of Calgary while eight months pregnant. Usually the millions of people don't bother me, and doing all my shopping two weeks before Christmas is my M.O. But this year, I can't imagine anything I'd rather do LESS. My back is going to hurt, my feet are going to be swollen, and my gi-normous stomach is going to knock things over in crowded stores. I just know it.

Also, there's the nagging voice in the back of my head that says: What if something goes wrong and the baby comes early? What if I get sick or get stuck on bed rest or something like that? And so, with Halloween not even here yet, I have started to buy Christmas presents. And it feels really, really weird.

It also feels like I should be decorating the house. I mean, if I'm buying presents, then it must be Christmas, right? It sure looks like Christmas at all the stores I'm shopping in. Maybe I should go home and find where we put the Christmas tree…

Letter to the couple waiting in line behind me at Safeway tonight:

In what universe did you think loudly complaining about the service was going to make the line go any faster? You got in line pretty much the same time as I did, and we couldn't have been waiting more than ten minutes. Are you really so busy at 8 p.m. on a Tuesday night that you have to sigh and bitch and moan about a ten minute wait?

Didn't you see the giant help wanted sign that covered the doors on the way in? It listed about 15 positions that needed to be filled in that store. They are obviously understaffed, and maybe the employees they do have are a little overworked. I didn't see any of them standing around talking or goofing off in any way. In fact, I actually saw one guy hurry down the aisle to answer a question for a customer.

And didn't you see how bad you were making the poor check-out clerk feel as you grumbled about how slow he was? He couldn't have been more than 16 years old! And the more you grumbled about how bad the service was, the redder the poor kid got, and the more he fumbled and struggled with the items and his scanner. Don't you remember what it was like to be 16 and unsure? Have you no feelings at all?

And the customer in line directly ahead of me may have had more than 10 items, but there weren't any other counters open. He had no choice but to use the express lane. Did you have to pick on him too?

I should have turned around and said something. And as I write this I'm regretting that I didn't. Because I'm tired of the rude and self-centered people running the world. I'm tired that nobody has any patience or understanding or empathy for anybody but themselves. And I'm worried about how I'm going to teach patience, understanding and empathy to my daughter, when there are no examples from real life to reinforce them.

What's the world coming to?

On Saturday morning at 5 a.m., a 61-year-old man (who weighed 120 lbs soaking wet) was nearly beaten to death one block from my house. He was walking across the Canadian Tire parking lot and was swarmed by a group of youths who repeatedly kicked and ground his head into the pavement and left him for dead. One block from my house. Which is right next to the RCMP detachment.

We've been having troubles with youth vandalism lately, so the community was debating whether to implement a curfew for teens. City Council voted it down three weeks ago, saying that it wasn't fair to the good kids and did little to deter the bad kids from doing what they were doing. I agreed, and still do. But clearly, we gotta do SOMETHING.

Maybe we need to get rid of the lenient federal young offender laws that give kids a very minor slap on the wrist for very serious offenses. Maybe kids need to learn that there are actual consequences to their actions when they are young so they don't continue to do these things when they are older.

Or maybe we just have to accept that this kind of thing is going to happen when a city starts to grow. Maybe we have to accept that bad people are going to do bad things, and it doesn't matter how many police officers we have patrolling our streets, they can't catch them all.

I know this sounds silly to those of you living in big metropolitan cities where these things happen all the time, but this is new to me. Airdrie, at 30,000 people, is the biggest place I've lived since I went to college about a million years ago. I grew up on a farm near a town of 1500 people, then after college I moved around Alberta a lot, but all were towns of 5000 people or less. These kinds of things just didn't happen.

But now I live 15 minutes north of very rapidly expanding Calgary, where crime is getting worse and worse, and those of us who have lived around this area all our lives are shocked at how fast it has escalated. I know it's incredibly naive and unrealistic, but I liked my world better when things like this happened in other cities; not one block from my house.

Pregnant Curling - not as easy as it sounds

For some reason, blogger has been freezing me out for days and not letting me log in. Perhaps it knew I was dog tired and my brain didn't work and all the stuff I wrote this week was crap, and was therefore sparing all of you from my addle-brained meanderings. But they let me in today, so I'm posting what I wrote on Thursday 'cause it was actually not that bad.


Last night, I went curling. Yep, I went curling pregnant! And boy, was that hard! Curling is my favorite sport in the whole world. If I was a gazillionaire, I would spend my days practicing at the rink, put together a team and win the Scott Tournament of Hearts every year, then head off to the Olympics every four years and beat Dordy Nordby's team out of the gold every time. Of course, I'm not nearly good enough to do that NOW. This is just my dream. (And why I would have to spend every day at the rink practicing). For now, I will settle for a regular spot with someone's team in the local Wednesday night Ladies League.

But I've gotten a little off topic. I was going to Skip for a Ladies team this year, but then I got pregnant and the team kinda fell apart. So, my boss' fiance (who put the team together) found another team and they needed a spare for the night so I jumped at the chance. I figured, how much harder could pregnant curling be? A LOT harder, as it turns out. Sweeping was okay, mostly because I learned to do it in the stone ages and prefer to sweep old style. All I had to do was get a little lower and spread-eagle a little more to make room for the bump and it was no problem at all.

But throwing the rock -- that was a different story. I have this pre-shot routine that involves bending down really low in the hack and lining up the rock exactly where I want to throw it so I can use muscle memory to always be on the broom. But I can't bend anymore. Even a little bit. I had to stay sitting up straight in the hack and guess as to where the rock needed to go. Anything that had to go to either side of the house I did a pretty good job of hitting the broom -- but anything in the middle and I was hooped. I couldn't reach over my tummy! And in the middle of making one shot in the fifth end, just as I was coming out of the hack I got a charlie-horse in my calf and fell over. I have not fallen since I was learning to curl in grade 8! (Don't worry, I was only about 5 inches off the ground and I fell on my butt so baby was fine).

At the end the very nice people who I was curling with were humoring me and telling me how good I was, but I think secretly they are worried about me coming back again next week. Oh well. I had a ton of fun, and that's all that counts really. And I absolutely LOVE hanging out with the boss' fiance. If I had more time in my schedule and she had more time in hers, I think we would spend a lot more time together. That's one of the reasons I was so sad to see our Wednesday night team fall apart. How else do you make new friends when you're 32? Oh well, there's always next year . . .…

I'm old. Old, old, old.

I am old. I am one of the old people now. I am no longer one of the young people. And I know this is true because today I went to the mall. And at the mall I discovered, to my dismay, that there are several stores that I am now too old to shop in. And I discovered THAT because when I went in them, the 16-year-olds who work there gave me "the look." You know, the one that says "Hey old lady. You must have wandered in here by accident. The old people clothes are next door."

It's not like I was going to buy them. I'm visibly pregnant and would obviously not fit into them. But I only get a morning off about once every 6 months, and I was in a mall and I hadn't gone shopping in awhile and I just wanted to look. But everywhere I went, I kept getting "the look."

Perhaps it wasn't so much because I am old, but that these days I dress more for comfort than for style. I'm wearing a pair of maternity jeans that are very comfy but won't stay up for longer than 15 minutes so I constantly have to hike them up as I'm walking. And since the beautiful winter jacket I bought last year no longer does up, I've been wearing an old polar fleece jacket that I used to curl in. It's in good shape because I only wore it for a few hours once a week, and the reason why it still fits is that I bought it big enough to wear several layers underneath while I curl -- so definitely not in style anymore. But I just can't justify spending hundreds of dollars on clothes that I'm not going to wear for very long, so I'm doing my best to make do with what I've got.

So I guess that means that I'm not exactly stylish at the moment. Which makes me old. Because young Denice would not have been caught dead in public in some of the things I've been wearing, no matter what the reason. And that is how I know for sure that my 20s are definitely behind me. When you have a husband who is still in his 20s and no kids, you can fool yourself into thinking that you are still very young and hip for 32. But I think it's time I faced reality. I'm old. That and 20-year-olds probably don't use "hip" to describe themselves anymore.

Hey - come to think of it, what are 16-year-olds doing working at 11 a.m. on a Thursday anyway? Is the Calgary labour shortage so great that kids are skipping school to make the big bucks at Le Chateau? Seriously?

These are a few of my favorite things…

Since being pregnant has turned me into a sentiment sap, I decided to do the cliche thing and put together a little list of the things I am thankful for in my life (not necessarily in order) to celebrate this Thanksgiving weekend.

So, here goes:

1. My sweet hubby who spoils me rotten and treats me like the goddess I am.
2. My sweet baby girl who will arrive in January.
3. My sweet parents and sisters who have always treated me like I was the most important person in the world to them, even when I haven't been at my nicest.
4. All of my wonderful friends who I have been lucky enough to meet over the years.
5. Beautiful snowy days.
6. My cuddly soft microfibre fleece bathrobe and socks.
7. My two purring kitties who snuggle up next to me and fall asleep every night.
8. Staying in bed with a good book and a mug of hot chocolate on a cold day.
9. Baking gingerbread cookies from scratch and making the whole house smell wonderful.
10. All 10 seasons of Friends on DVD - a few of which will be with me in the hospital while I'm in labour to help me take my mind off things.
11. An ice cold bottle of Diet Coke.
12. Going for a long run or bike ride with some great music blaring in my ears.
13. Macintosh computers and the Adobe Creative Suite.
14. The excited look on my two-year-old nieces’ face when she first sees me, and squeals "Aunt Denice!"
15. A great night of curling…
16. Followed by a soak in a hot tub
17. Waking up early at Christmas time and turning the Christmas tree lights on while the house is dark and everyone else is still sleeping and quiet.
18. Waking up early in the summer and watching the sunrise at my parents' farm, while everyone else is still sleeping and quiet.
19. That awesome Quench moisturizer from Olay that actually made my perpetually itchy and dry skin go away.
20. Did I mention my sweet hubby?

Skinny Jeans, Now???

Okay, fashion powers-that-be. I have a bone to pick with you.

Why, after so many years of putting out things that did not look good on me, did you pick this year of all years to bring back skinny jeans? Non-pregnant Denice looks GREAT in skinny jeans. I am 5' 4" and all legs. And although there have been times that my legs have been much leaner than others, generally my legs tend to be my best feature.

Fashion Fiascos for me over the past 7 years or so: I am VERY short-waisted so all those low rise jeans just look like regular waist pants on me. And crop tops? Not crop tops on me. And that two year period where lime green and yellow were in? The worst colors in the world on me. Flared leg jeans were okay, but when you are only 5' 4" they don't really help make you look any taller. I could go on, and on, and on!

And now I am pregnant Denice. My thighs and ass have gotten rather bigger than they typically would be but I am okay with that, because if that's what has to happen for me to have a healthy baby, then c'est la vie. But that also means that for the short period of time that skinny jeans will be in, not only can I not wear them, I won't look good in them like I usually do either!
Because I have a feeling that when baby comes in January, I will not be one of the lucky few who can put her old jeans on a week after giving birth. I'm pretty sure it's going to take 6 or 8 months of aerobics and running and weight lifting to get this body back into it's previous shape. And by then skinny jeans will be out, and it will be back to something that looks hideous on me.

Why, why WHY?????

In which my dorkiness reaches new heights…

I have officially become the biggest dork in the universe.

Remember a couple weeks ago, when I wrote about my cat who was desperate to go outside? Well, he quit begging for a week or so, but he started again with a renewed vigor that I think surprised even him. He goes to the patio door in our living room, stands up on his hind feet and scratches and yowls and scratches and yowls and scratches and yowls to be let out. And when I say yowl, I mean YOWL. Deep, throaty, voluminous yowls that make me think HE thinks I'm some sort of prison warden trying to torture him. And he will carry this on for 30 minutes without stopping. He could probably go longer, but the 30 minute mark is when he breaks me and I give in.

Why can't I just let him out to roam free like a normal person would? The reasons are threefold:

1. We live really, really close to a very major Alberta highway, and I don't want my sweet kitty to get schmucked by a car. He's such a "leap before you look" kind of cat, I just don't want to take a chance and let him loose on his own.

2. The people in Airdrie have been known to leave poison out for cats who wander free and happen to wander into their yards and mess up their precious flowers.

3. The City of Airdrie is thinking about enacting a cat bylaw that will say that I CAN'T let my cat roam free even if I wanted to, so I don't want to let him get used to it and then take it away from him.

Which brings us to my aforementioned extreme dorkiness. Because I can't just let him roam free, I have resorted to taking my cat for a walk. Like a dog. With a harness and a leash and everything. There is a walking path that runs along our back yard, and we hit the path every night, stopping to sniff every blade of grass and eat every bug he can find. I always wait until it's dark, by the way, so my night owl cat gets to prowl and I don't have to run into very many people.

But I'm getting some pretty strange looks from the few people I do run into. On Saturday night, when we reached the highway pedestrian overpass, I noticed there were two boys, probably about 16 or 17 years old, standing around and I'm pretty sure smoking weed. And the first guy says, "Hey, I think that lady's walking her cat!" The second guy looks and goes, "NOOO!" And the first guy says, "Dude, she is! She's walking her cat!" Muffled laughter followed. That was the actual conversation. I'm not making this up.

So, if you see a crazy lady in Airdrie walking her cat, be kind. It's just me.