September 22, 2007

I’m fascinated with this “Show us what you’re wearing to workFlickr pool (not to be confused with the “Show us your tits!” pool featuring, presumably, many many pageviews and some shiny beads), enough so that I clumsily took my own picture two days in a row in order to participate. JB declared this activity “totally weird”, and I’ll concede that it’s an awfully girly thing to do, but still: highly satisfying. You should join, so I can stare creepily at your enFlickr’d visage and maybe also stalk your shoes.

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In (boring) remodel news, the painting is nearly done and the cabinets are all installed, and it feels like the end is actually in view. Sure, it’s way the hell over there on the horizon, just a frustratingly tiny dot, but by god I can SEE IT.

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Also, the plastic draping covering the entryway is gone and I no longer have to heave my bulk over a fence to get in and out of my house. I’m sure our neighbors are thankful.

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My 20-week scan is scheduled for first thing Monday morning and assuming the fetus cooperates, it will be revealed to me what I’ve got in the oven. Boy? Girl? Three-headed lizard? I am so excited about finding out, I can hardly stand it.

I am also thinking that JB—who is claiming that it will be too inconvenient for him to meet me at the hospital on Monday in order to observe the ultrasound and learn the sex of his second child at the same time I do (“But you can call me right away afterwards, right?”)—deserves to get a doctored-up cellphone image showing triplets, or possibly the casual mention that the doctors have advised me to avoid sex for at least 96 months, or until such time as the remodel is done, whichever is longer.

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September 20, 2007

I keep being surprised at the many ways in which a kitchen remodel can greatly inconvenience a person. I mean, there’s the not-being-able-to-cook thing, and the no-dishes thing, but as I’ve learned over the last couple days, there’s also the tearing-of-the-pants thing.

See, now that they’ve started painting we have the aforementioned plastic drape (complete with labia, now sadly taped shut) sealing the new area from the rest of the house, rendering our front door usable only for people working in the kitchen. Anyone else, such as the occupants of the house, has to circle around into the backyard and step over our makeshift wire fence. This is obviously no big deal for JB, but for yours truly it’s a massive pain in the ass, especially when I’m wearing heels and carrying a toddler/purse/armload of grocery bags.

I mean it’s literally a pain in the ass, because I’ve managed to get stuck on the top of the fence several times now, and now my one pair of semi-comfortable maternity jeans have little rips all over the heinie area. Yesterday I found myself mid-straddle with one shoe trapped in the fence while I flailed to keep myself from collapsing over the side, and I suddenly realized I was completely visible to all of the painters via a nearby window. I’m pretty sure a pregnant lady stuck on a fence makes for some fine visual entertainment, something to break up the monotony of applying primer, and while I couldn’t be certain I thought I heard a chorus of snickers as I finally detached myself and scurried away to my car.

(Luckily, later on a worker carrying a heavy box made his way through our entryway only to step directly on a stuffed squeaky toy that bleated a single, startling “EE-ERRRR!” like the death call of a spring lamb, and I could hear him bumbling the box and cursing under his breath in Spanish. HA! Vengeance is mine.)

I am officially so, so, so sick of this remodel. My house is filled with spiders and dust and cantankerous toddlers, I’m tired of eating microwaved food with plastic spoons, and now I have to rip my pants on a fence to get in and out. I know I’m going to love the end result, but jeeeeeesus christ we’ve been at this since . . . what, May? WAH.

Also, we keep trying to pick out a hanging light fixture for the nook area and hey, have you ever tried to take a toddler to a lighting store? Take it from me, this is not something you want to do unless the child is in restraints.

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Hey, the new blog is up and running! This first entry is mostly an introductory how-do, but please stop by and say hi if you get a chance. And don’t even mock me for that goofy picture on there, it’s the closest thing to a “head shot” I could find.

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