shapeshifter

For some strange reason, my bump seems to have elevated itself recently. I present to you exhibit A:







At my age, nothing ever migrates north, so this is a welcome change.

rawk on

Oh yes oh yes, it's a long weekend here! It'll rain, hail, flood, and a plague of something will descend upon us and ruin any chances for a BBQ, but who cares? I don't have to work on Monday! Oh happy day.



It's Ed and Martine's monkey time, and this month's theme is:

"Something Weird: The Musical! In other words, tell us something weird about yourself that involves music."



The first thing that came to mind is my odd, but incredibly useless ability to think of obscure songs and then hear them on the radio or television. For example, for no reason, the song "Photograph" by Flock of Seagulls might suddenly pop into my head. This isn't something that would get played on the radio station I listen to, nor would it be a song I've heard recently elsewhere. Within the same day (usually within an hour or so), that song will pop up in an ad, article, or someone will mention it to me. Now, this doesn't work for any type of music. For some strange reason, I've had old commercial jingles running through my head ("My bologna has a first name...", and "Honeycomb's big - yeah yeah yeah! It's not small - no no no!") but none of these jingles have cropped up anywhere else in the world outside of my own head. Sadly, I can only do this with songs and not winning lottery numbers.



Have a lovely long weekend, everyone. For you North Americans, have a lovely long weekend in a week.

busy bee

I can feel the little fluttery rumbly movement in my tummy again right now, and I'm sitting in the same position as yesterday when I felt the same thing. I don't care if it might be gas, I'm going to cherish this moment. I have a feeling that Pip is ricocheting around my womb after that bag of Kit Kat Kubes I just ate. Whee!



Pip must be going through a growth spurt right now because all sorts of symptoms and pregnancy hormone-related things have just started up again very recently. It started with a zit (how retro - very 80s), and now I'm revisiting the stressed/anxious/irritable/weepy phase I experienced in the early weeks. My stomach hurts when I sneeze, which doesn't sound too bad, but keep in mind that it's allergy season right now. I cannot sleep (and not just because I need the loo every hour) and I oscillate between wanting to hug people to wanting to slap them with a wet carp. I cannot imagine how much fun I must be right now.



Oooh still fluttering! Hope you're having fun in there, my little jumping bean.

moving

I keep feeling these odd fluttering sensations lately (always during the day when I'm sitting up). It's almost like there are little tiny earthquakes happening in my tummy or Pip's got a little drum in there.



Is it just gas? I bet it's just gas. Damn.

so what language do i speak?

Canadians, of course, spend half their time explaining they're not from the United States, and much of the rest being polite, spelling words with a "z" instead of an "s" and purchasing two-fours - or cases - of beer. [source]

Actually, I've always spelled words with an s, but that's not really the point. The point of this article is this:

Do they speak English in Australia?

"Well of course they do - like millions of other members of the big happy Commonwealth family. But new rules asking natives of those countries to prove they can speak English before getting UK citizenship has left some 'colonials' feeling a little insulted - and that's the same in any accent."

I'd laugh, but I am not yet a UK citizen and will have to actually prove that I can speak English - even though I have a work permit for a technical writing job. In English, thank you. Now before you Americans start giggling and making fun of the way we pronounce our "ou" words, this applies to you too. Anyone applying for UK citizenship will have to prove they can speak English.



Good thing I know how to make Yorkshire puddings, have all the Blackadder episodes on DVD, can sing the national anthem, and can name all of the winners of Big Brother UK. You never know what they're going to ask on that citizenship test. Cor blimey, guv'nor.

breathe. relax. breathe.

[This is a post about a wedding-related incident, but I felt the need to post it here instead of the wedding blog. So sue me.]



I met up with the string quartet lady today to go over some details and she wanted to check out the hotel facilities for various things. One of the things she needed to check was to time my entrance from the doors where I enter to the front of the terrace where the registrar (and my husband to be, if he doesn't change his mind) will be. We're getting married in the terrace, which is a restaurant open to the public during lunch and dinner hours. It was 1pm, and I had to casually stroll through a terrace full of diners - not once, but twice. Apparently I didn't do the rehearsal walk quite right and the quartet lady asked me to do it again. As the restaurant staff looked at me with great amusement, I said "I am rehearsing for my wedding. I'm not going insane. Honest." and kept my gaze fixed on the floor as I walked by the tables verrrryy sloowwwwwly, pausing twice (as per the quartet lady's request). I felt like such an enormous dork. A dorky pregnant stressed out waddly dork.



I am now at the point where I don't want to meet with anyone, make appointments, make phone calls, or make any more decisions related to this wedding. I really don't give a flying spork how many roses I need for each centrepiece, where the photographer is going to take our pictures between the ceremony and lunch, or whether or not we can figure out a song for our first dance. There are still so many little stupid details left to sort out, and no matter how simple you think you're keeping things, there is always something left to do. All I really want to do is marry my lovely, very patient and understanding fiance, have a great lunch, and disco the night away with my family and friends. Pointe finale.



I'm sure I'll look back on all of this one day and laugh. (Hysterically, from a nicely padded room.) In the meantime, I will be hiding under my desk eating chocolate peanut butter squares.

beautiful

My lovely friend Julie Dubya pointed out this page to me today, saying it reminded her of me. I love pregnant bellies; I always have. Although I'm never going to look like this woman, I am looking forward to having a big round belly.



Of course ask me about this again at around 39 weeks, and I bet I won't be quite as excited about having an igloo-sized tummy.