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The Gunslinger, Stephen King

I'm randomly re-reading this, and can't hardly believe how different it is from the later books. So much better, in my opinion.

Check out:

I like this webcomic.


I bought these to help make up for the super-ugly bras. For, like, twelve bucks! Target RULES.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

My dog smells. I know, you're thinking, what dog doesn't smell? Well, although Dog's breath could, as JB says, "knock a buzzard off a shitwagon" (forgive him, he's from a small town), normally Dog's fur has a pleasant cooked-biscuit aroma, with just a hint of swampiness. However, since we brought her home from the kennel - where she was supposedly GROOMED - she's got this palpable cloud of stank, like maybe she rolled on a diarrhea-prone skunk or something. I brought her to work today, and despite my smoldering citrus-sage Yankee Candle, which has such a strong reek I would have thought it could cover a rotting corpse, a horrible eau de canine is slowly filling my office.

Jeez, I hope no one thinks it's ME. Maybe I should put up a sign: "SMELL IS DOG, NOT HUMAN".


Yesterday I went back for the second ultrasound, and I did not drink nearly as much water beforehand because I have Learned My Damn Lesson when it comes to bladder capacity and waiting rooms. This time, there was no need for wacky gymnastics designed to shake the bebe into a better position, he or she cooperated right off the bat and the test only took a few minutes.

(Oh, and during our first appointment, she estimated the due date at Sept. 18, not the 26th. So I'm a little further along than I thought. Huh.)

I don't really know how to describe how joyful, amazing, and overwhelming it is to watch that monitor and see the life inside me, one tiny hand near the mouth as though thumb sucking, the unmistakable image of the heart beat beat beating away. "Sorry you had to come back," the tech said when we were done. "You know, I really didn't mind," I said, still seeing the shape of our moving, growing baby.

I was in a ridiculously good mood afterwards and drove over to Target, where my high spirits were immediately doused after I tried on 8 separate cute springlike dresses, all of which did not fit in various irritating ways. Man, nothing sucks like the death of hope that happens in a dressing room sometimes - you walk in with your armful of potential, wondering if you might be transformed to a prettier you, a Target-branded 2.0!, and after a soul-destroying period of struggling, sweating, and grimacing at yourself in the flourescent-lit mirror, you slink back out to deposit the whole sorry mess - now a pile representing only FAILURE and BACK FAT - on the attendant's table. Lame.

After the spectacular nonsuccess of Moschino's finest (well, cheapest anyway), I moved on to bras, because my own tried-and-trues are starting to strain at the seams, in a threatening sort of way. One keeps coming undone in the back, just one hook, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time until it comes zinging out from the armhole of my shirt and puts someone's eye out.

I tried on about a thousand different styles, and the ones I ended up buying are, um, grandma bras. They are huge enough to cradle a large grapefruit in each cup, and they have the sort of sturdy, no-nonsense structure that could withstand a rabid pitbull attack. And god help me, they are comfortable. Hate you, giant pendulous pregnant boobs. Hate.

It might be early, or silly, or early and silly, but I also bought a set of two little baby outfits - awwww, and in case you were wondering just how shmoopy I've gotten, the fact that I am considering selling a kidney to buy this bedding should pretty much tip you off.


I worry a little that this journal will become completely boring to some of you, as I talk endlessly about being pregnant, but it is sort of a subject that's on my mind, you know, ALL THE FREAKING TIME, so instead of giving some pseudo apology for the repetitiveness of my website content, why don't I just move on to tell you about my fabulous invention this morning?

My belly feels bigger lately. Now, I realize this could simply be the case of indulging in way too many Nabisco-related cravings, not to mention the general, shall we say, malaise of my digestion, but I like to tell myself that I'm starting to show, just a little. At any rate, the waistline of my pants (loose a couple weeks ago, no lie) felt a little binding this morning, so I took a hair band, stuck one end through the buttonhole, and looped the two other ends over the button. Voila, a brand new elasticy waist that totally feels fine! I realize I am not the first person on earth to figure out this trick, but I have been absurdly proud all day long. Am genius inventor, like Benjamin Franklin.

Speaking of the belly, are you ready? For this particular jelly?

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