21 Weeks and Counting

My innie is finally a full-fledged outie, which kinda grosses me out. It’s killer sensitive and the skin is soft. People, the insides of your belly buttons are soft as the downy feathers of a baby chick! Of course, try to touch a newly hatched outie and you get an electric zing of discomfort. It’s similar to chewing tinfoil. But still. Soft!

In other pregnancy news, I’m starting to have No One Hurts This Baby dreams. In these dreams I have superhero baby-protection powers. I dreamt that terrorists tried to take me and Bryan hostage with hundreds of other people, and I knew I had to get out before they realized I was pregnant. I kee-yahed, and throat-punched, and clawed my way free. Then I sent Bryan a text message that said, “We’re safe. Get out.” And I waited for him at a coffee shop.

Three Years Ago Today

Still Sleepy

Yesterday I woke up obscenely early for an interview on the KFOG morning show. I love radio interviews, as DJs are the only people on the planet who are more uncomfortable with conversational lulls than me. Anyway, have a listen.

Imposter

A few days ago, Bryan and I made our first trip to Borders just to see my book in its natural habitat. We found a few copies in the Web Design section (beh?), and Bryan took them up to the counter so I could sign them.

I didn’t realize this was a thing, authors going into random Borders and signing their books, so I felt all sheepish. Afterward, a clerk stuck “SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR!” stickers on the cover and put them back on the shelf. I gazed upon them lovingly. Still, it felt like I’d paid to have them printed by some vanity press and then snuck them in to a real bookstore just to see them on the shelf.

Also, they didn’t check my ID or author photo or anything. This made me wonder what other books I could sign at random bookstores. Would they believe me if I said I was Nora Ephron? Jonathan Safran Foer?

In conclusion, I encourage you to go into bookstores and surreptitiously sign copies of my book, as I think it would be funny.

Famous Pop Rhetoricals

Him: How come every time you come around my London, London Bridge wanna go down?
Me: Shhh, baby.

Cold Storage

Melissa of the excellent Suburban Bliss just did her first No One Cares What You Had for Lunch post. Turns out that the outside of her refrigerator is a frickin’ time capsule. And you? Pony up, kids. What’s on your fridge?

Put links to your refrigerator images or lists in the comments, and I’ll leave them open until the spammers close in. Maybe we’ll even do a Best of Fridges roundup.

Burdens

-Ow! You stepped on my foot. Again.
-Why do you even stay married to me?
-I don’t knowâ€¦ Oh yeah. I’m carrying your child. Your very heavy child.
-I haven’t even taken a single turn.
-Yeah! Bring me some ice cream.
-OK.

Places in the Neighborhood

Excellent stores near our home:

1. Palace of Fine Junk
2. Save a Lot Mart
3. House of Stools