A Hurried, Harried "Happy Holidays!"

The first thought in my head this morning was, "It should be illegal for someone to drive after getting 4 hours of sleep the night before." And by "4 hours," what I really mean is, at best, 2-and-a-half because my collection of pillows and blankets has gotten so large that every time I want to so much as move my foot in the middle of the night, I have to practically get out of bed first. This could be remedied by getting rid of some of the pillows and blankets, but then, I'd have to face the fact that my biggest problem doesn't stem from external forms of padding, but rather internal forms of padding and that's a thought that I'm just not ready to accept yet.

Last night, we packed up kit, kaboodle, and canine and bundled a distressing number of boxes, bags, and one very large kennel into the poor, sweet Matrix. The Matrix, for its part, saw us coming with our mountain of luggage and almost handed in a letter of resignation. I would like to take this opportunity to point out the fact that among all those bags? Mine is THE SMALLEST ONE. The other 45 or so belong to McMoose and The Dog. Although I do have to admit that I'm taking several pillows and blankets because (a) the car is packed so full that the passenger seat no longer reclines, which makes it very difficult to get in a good nap, and (b) McMoose is driving the majority of the way, which means he gets to set the temperature in the car and he has been known to drive around with A/C blaring in the middle of December because his hands feel warm.

All that, just to say that we'll be leaving for Mississippi in about 30 minutes here (although past experience suggests that those 3o minutes are going to turn to 75 at a startling rate). And THAT was just to say that posting here will be probably be non-existent for the next two weeks. So Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's and see ya in 2009!

Just Can't Compose A Coherent Post...

There are some mornings when leaving the apartment is just the most difficult thing ever and this morning fell squarely within that category. I woke up at 5:30 and then lay in bed for the next 90 minutes alternately trying to fall back asleep or convince myself that I should get up and shower. I WANTED to get up and shower, but the bed was so warm and the rest of the room was so cold that the thought of standing in the coldness and waiting for the shower to warm up was just too much. Plus, The Dog was using my foot as a pillow and he moans pitifully when I disturb him. So instead, I stayed in bed and thought of all the strange things that could happen today. None of the things on this list actually happened, but that's not to say that my day was uneventful either...

-A squirrel tried to kill itself by jumping in front of my car at the last second. I swerved and splashed cold water on him instead. Serves him right, I feel.

-I got to work to find that someone had turned my computer on, opened up a Word document, and typed "Hi, Anisha" and left it on the screen. As far as I know, I was the only one at the office today AND yesterday, so apparently, the campus ghost has been skulking around.

-When I returned to my car after a (very much) shortened day at work, I found a guy from campus parking services standing there. Apparently, they've had a lot of people trying to use fake parking permits lately, so even though my car HAS A PARKING STICKER, he felt it was necessary to run my plates to see if I had actually been issued the pass. I asked him if the fake passes looked like the real ones and he replied, "No. It's pretty easy to pick them out." So...um...why was he running my plates?

-On the drive home, the car in front of me had a christmas tree tied to their roof and one of the branches came flying into my car. I thought my windshield would finally give up the fight and break, but it soldiered bravely on, so I continue to have an intact, albeit cracked, windshield.

Dedicated To My Dear Animals

'Twas 9 days before Christmas
And all through the room,
The animals were running
And chasing, zoom-zoom.

The dog just kept scratching
His legs and his back,
Until I threatened
To put his head in a sack.

The cats fought on the bed
And they fought on the floor.
They fought on the couch
And crashed into the door.

While McMoose with his computer
And I with my yarn
Just shook our sad heads.
We no longer give a darn.

If the animals, we've decided,
Want to destroy this place,
We'll gather our clothes
And away we shall race...

To a cottage on the beach
Or perhaps a mountain cabin
Someplace away from these animals,
That we will feel fab in.

Crazy? Me? Nooooo.

If I were a dinosaur, I'd want to be the kind that has the flaps of skin tucked beside its head so that when I got frustrated, I could hiss and puff out the flaps and look all menacing-like. I came to this realization when my computer froze up for the 15th time this morning and I put my hands behind my ears, flapped them forward and snarled at the computer. My office mates probably think I've lost my mind, but it was oddly therapeutic.

Apparently, this is the kind of crazy behavior you start to exhibit when...
(a) You can't stay asleep for more than 40 minutes at a time.
(b) You're facing the possibility that you might be spending the next 5 months of your life timing "perfectly harmless, completely normal" Braxton-Hicks contractions. If they're so harmless and normal, why do I have to time them? And also, why do I have to drink 20 ounces of water each time I have one? And also, have you ever tried drinking 20 ounces of water 8-12 times a day? IT. CAN'T. BE. DONE.
(c) You call the computer people YET AGAIN and are told YET AGAIN that your computer is perfectly fine. If it's fine, then why won't it let me check my email? Or open a spreadsheet? Or type 2 consecutive words without freezing up?
(d) You get a call from your vet telling you that your dog has cancer. And then, you have to explain to 3 different people that no, that's impossible, because your last visit was a month ago and they already gave you all the test results that said he was fine, so unless they broke into your apartment in the middle of the night and ran unauthorized tests, they've got the wrong number. And after 15 minutes of telling you that "denial is a perfectly normal stage in the grief process," one of them FINALLY thinks to actually check the file and finds that in fact, they've got the wrong number. So now, not only am I annoyed by their lack of conscientiousness, I also feel terrible for the person whose dog actually does have cancer.

Surely, you understand why pretending to be a dinosaur is really not all that odd at this point in time.

Back To The Drawing Board

In our quest to find The Perfect Explorer, we took what turned out to be a Very Long Drive to the other end of Raleigh last Saturday and looked at a moderately cool, red one. Granted, it wasn't blue and it drove like a typically big car, which is to say that while I was test driving it, I was very aware that I was farther away from the ground than I like to be and furthermore, that the car could very well roll over at any given moment. I know that SUVs don't USUALLY roll over without provocation, but given their center of gravity, they COULD and that's what bothers me about them. The thing I had liked best about the blue Explorer we drove a few weeks ago is that it drove just like my Matrix, so it felt very comfortable. This red one felt very different, so I was kind of iffy about the whole thing, but it had reasonably low mileage at a very reasonably low price, so I was willing to get over my reservations.

As it turned out, I no longer have to get over those reservations because the darn thing got sold to someone else. And now that buying it is no longer an option, I've somehow managed to completely idealize it and all I can think about is the sun roof and the cool on board computer that told us how many miles we could go before we had to stop for gas and the little number pad lock thing. Plus, the whole low mileage and low cost thing. Plus, now we have to start back at square one, which is the "Locate A Suitable Car In The Raleigh Area" step, which is no fun at all because it involves weeks of McMoose looking at random cars and SUVs and then TELLING ME about things like their engine. And although I'm glad to be included in the car-choosing process, the thing about engines is that as long as the car HAS one? I'm happy.

Accepting the Inevitable

Signs that led me to believe that we might actually have a nice, cold, snowy winter this year:

• The past summer and fall were very hot, but also very humid, which was in stark contrast to the very hot and dry pattern of the last few years. I took that to mean that this winter would be cold and humid (and therefore, snowy), rather than cold and dry.
• McMoose and others who have experienced more than two Raleigh winters claim that every 4th winter brings a lot of snow. And by "a lot," they mean "one snowstorm that leads to 3-4 inches of actual accumulation." And at this point? I'd settle for that. I have come down off my high horse and would now be happy for ANY ACCUMULATION WHATSOEVER.
• We had some extremely cold weeks in November. I mean, there were highs in the 30's, for crying out loud. And there was frost on the car when I went out in the morning. Frost! If that doesn't signal coming coldness, I don't know what does.

Signs that are now leading me to believe that my initial expectations were mistaken:

• It was 70 degrees out on Tuesday.
• It was in the high 60's yesterday.
• It's in the slightly lower 60's today. With lots of rain.
• The rest of the week is supposed to be in the high 50's. It might dip into the high 40's at some point. But probably not.

So apparently, we've decided YET AGAIN to skip the winter portion of the year and just go straight ahead to spring. And actually? I'm starting to be okay with this because I've discovered that shivering while pregnant is not so much fun. Things rattle around inside and make me worry that maybe my liver has come loose. So...okay. I can make my peace with the balmy winter. And now that I've said that, I'm sure we'll be covered under 2 feet of snow by this time next week.

The Boy-Bug

Yesterday, The Bug and I had our 18 week ultrasound, where it was summarily determined that The Bug is a Boy Bug who displays an odd combination of being stubborn, yet laid back. Of course, when you combine me with McMoose, what you get is precisely an odd combination of stubborn (me) and laid back (not so much me). Based on what I knew about The Bug's seemingly nocturnal patterns of activity, I decided that it would be a good idea if, in addition to my usual Very Tall glass of water, I were also to drink a Very Tall glass of orange juice before the appointment because I had read that orange juice makes fetuses wake up and move around. I had also read that being exposed to the ultrasound waves themselves makes fetuses wake up and move around.

The Bug, apparently, had not read any of these things, so he sat there like a bump on a log the whole time. In fact, the only effect that the orange juice had was in making my bladder so uncomfortably full that I was worried I'd pee on the ultrasound tech. At one point, the tech and McMoose both swore that The Bug flexed his foot, but I missed that moment of alertness. And then, when the tech needed to take a measurement of his head, he turned the other way and steadfastly refused to turn back, even though she jiggled and jostled my belly relentlessly...the belly which housed the aforementioned Very Full Bladder. I'm assuming she did eventually get the measurements she needed because she quit torturing me and printed out some pictures, two of which I will be happy to share.

The Bug's profile (of head and belly) with his mouth open:

The Bug (head, belly, and arms) looking like he's ready to punch anyone who questions his odd, alien-like appearance:

Of course, I also have some pictures that, um, prove that he's a boy, but I don't think the Internet needs to be privy to those...

Getting Lost and Gloating

You'd think that after two and a half years of living in a city, I'd at least be able to find my way from a restaurant back to campus. You'd be sorely, sorely wrong. Somehow, I ended up going in the opposite direction, merging onto strange highways that I didn't even know EXISTED and almost hit a UPS truck because I was fiddling with the oh-so-uncooperative GPS thing. And this is what happens when you have no directional sense whatsoever. I blame genetics for this. And also? I hope The Bug gets McMoose's annoyingly unerring sense of direction.

And as an aside to McMoose: I might not have the best sense of direction, but I do have pretty awesome senses about other things, as evidenced by the fact that I was right, I was right, I was RIGHT, RIGHT, RIGHT! Ha.

Suggestions For The Road

1. Do not stop in the middle of a busy road to drop off or pick up a passenger. I know it's cold, but this is why parking lots exist. The gratitude that your friend feels will in no way offset all the negative feelings (and words and possibly rocks) being hurled at you by the 15 cars waiting behind you.

2. If you're a driving a Very Large Truck, maybe it's not the best idea to park on a Very Small Street. Because again, the 15 cars who are stuck behind you while you go buy a soda? ARE NOT PLEASED.

3. If it's not snowing and it's not expected to snow any time in the next two centuries or so, maybe it's not necessary for gas stations to salt their parking lots. Because then, when for some inexplicable reason, they decide to flood their parking lot with 3 inches of water, it all turns into a nasty, slushy mess which cakes itself onto (a) cars, and (b) people's shoes. Or maybe the real suggestion here is: Don't flood your parking lot.

4. The zebra stripes on the street indicate a crosswalk. Aka: a place where pedestrians can cross the street WITHOUT THE FEAR OF IMPENDING DEATH. Apparently, they don't cover this little tidbit of information in driver's education courses anymore because how else would you explain the fact that EVERY SINGLE TIME I've crossed a particular street on campus, cars zoom up, hit their brakes at the last minute, and then have the nerve to sit there glaring at me?

Intricacies of Today

• I tried something new at Bruegger's today and for once, it actually involved a bagel. I didn't actually mean to try it--I just got up to the counter and my brain said "A bowl of chili, please," and my mouth decided it would be funnier to say "Could I have bacon, egg, and cheese on a plain bagel?" And then, I spent the next hour completely confused because I think that's the first time my mouth has ever tried to revolt against my brain. Maybe The Bug was in control of my mouth at that exact instant?
• Today is the last day of class for the semester. It would be very exciting, except that before it's over, I have to give a presentation. More to the point, I have to listen to 4 other people give presentations. And even MORE to the point, I know from previous (dreadful)experience that at least two of these people interpret "10 minute presentation" to mean "45 minute lecture."
• I woke up this morning to find that the bread was not on top of the refrigerator, where it's supposed to be, but instead sitting under our coffee table. I think maybe Black Cat has the feline version of cabin fever, because she definitely dials up her level of CRAZY in the winter.
• We have exactly THREE WEEKS until Christmas. Dude, I need to go buy some presents!

Running Hot And Cold

There are some people who are really, really skilled at getting dressed. They check the weather. They make sure everything matches. They even pick out complementary accessories. And often, they lay out their clothes the night (or the week) before so they don't have to fumble around in their closet each morning. If this is you, I'm deeply envious of you because needless to say, I am not one of these people. I am a person who blindly picks out things to wear each morning and then spends the rest of the day being grouchy about the fact that I'm wearing a sweater during a heat wave.

So many years ago, I decided that they way to compensate for this clothing-related learning disability was to arrange the clothes in my closet according to their appropriate season. And now, my tank tops sit on one end of my closet and my sweaters sit on the other, and never the two shall meet. And for the better part of a decade, this system has worked wonderfully for me. Granted, I might still show up in green corduroy pants and a striped orange and purple sweater, but at least I'm not trying to brave a blizzard in a tank top and shorts.

And then, we moved to Raleigh. Where not only is the weather inconsistent from one day to the next, but it doesn't even stay stable during the course of a single day. This morning, for example, it was 31 degrees when I left the house. So I decided that it would be a coat, gloves, and hat kind of day. And now, 5 hours later? It's 58 degrees. THE ONLY WAY to prepare for this kind of temperature change is if you wear edible clothing and then snack on it over the course of the day. Which I might consider doing tomorrow, when the low is 32 and the high is 61.

This Is Why Good Street Signs Are a Must

Back at the end of August, McMoose and I went to a football game a few hours away from home and since we were planning to be out of the house for about 12 hours and The Dog can only last for about 8 before his bladder explodes, we had asked one of my friends to take him out in the middle of the day. After the game, I checked my cell phone, only to find that this friend had left me 5 messages in a 20 minute window of time.

Message 1 went something like this: "Anisha, we can't find your apartment!" Then, there was message 2: "Well, we found your apartment, but the key doesn't work. We're going to talk to the managers." Message 3: "We talked to the managers and apparently, we were in the wrong building. We're going to the right building now." Message 4: "THE KEY STILL DOESN'T WORK." And finally, message 5: "We were at the wrong building again. But we finally found the right one and we took The Dog out and he marked every bush within a 1 mile radius and then collapsed from the sheer exhaustion of walking for a mile."

Because apparently, there are three apartments in our complex that all have the same number. And although the street names (and therefore, the addresses) for these apartments are different, the street signs are confusing, to say the least. Which explains why it can sometimes be confusing for new people who are trying to navigate around the complex.

Fast-forward to this morning, when I was merrily enjoying my cereal when some people with very heavy boots came clomping up the stairs and began pounding on my door. Assuming it was the maintenance people coming to check the air filter or some similarly mundane thing, I took my time getting to the door. So you can imagine my SHEER PANIC when I opened it and it was not the maintenance people, but rather four very menacing looking police officers.

After some initial confusion about the fact that I was not the person they were looking for, I meekly suggested that perhaps they were looking for one of the other apartments of the same number. And as it turns out, real life cops are much nicer than the sarcastic, quippy ones they show on TV, so after a quick peek at my driver's license, they all clomped back down the stairs, got into their cruisers and drove off, with a news van following close behind. So for the rest of the day, I've been obsessively checking the news websites in vain to see what exactly was going on in my (seemingly very safe) neighborhood this morning. Because come on. FOUR police officers? AND a news van sitting in the parking lot? That seems like pretty big stuff to me. And yet, there hasn't been a single article about what was going on? Maybe I should ask for a police scanner for Christmas.

A List

Things that I expected during pregnancy:
1. Weight gain
2. Morning sickness
3. A baby at the end of it

Things I most certainly did NOT expect during pregnancy:
1. Nose bleeds.
2. The 16 trips per day to the bathroom because of the whole 4-inch-tall-person-living-on-top-of-my-bladder thing. And also, the unfortunate effect of sneezing.
3. The strange, baby-related dreams which, oddly enough, also always include an axe murderer. Last night, for example, I dreamed that I had five babies and one of them turned into an adult, even though the other four were still babies. And he said that he felt ignored his entire childhood, so he killed the other babies and then turned into a cat. And then, the alarm rang, and I'm just supposed to wake up and go about my day? LIKE NORMAL?
4. The crazy advice that people give me. And also, the fact that most of this advice ends with "If you don't follow this advice, YOUR BABY WILL DIE."

A Tale of Two Eyes

-I went to the eye doctor today. Amazingly, he did not smell like onions OR garlic, as most of my previous optometrists have. And also? He didn't try to balance himself on his little stool by putting his hands on my legs. Which means that I am now his NUMBER ONE FAN.

-I really, really hope that The Bug has McMoose's eyes because my eyes? Yeah, they kinda suck. My left one is getting steadily worse and the right one is developing astigmatism, for crying out loud. I find this highly unfair because I was told that eating carrots would be good for my eyes, and as a result, I made myself develop a taste for them and I'm STILL going blind. Meanwhile, McMoose, who would rather be eaten alive by canaries than eat a carrot has perfect vision.

-I always wonder how well doctors read the information forms that you fill out and today, I got my answer when the optometrist decided that he wanted to dilate my pupils. I asked if that was safe to do while I was pregnant, to which he responded with an "Oh! You're pregnant?!" Um, yes...that's why I checked the "Yes" box next to the question "Are you pregnant?" on the form. Way to pay attention, doc. As it turns out, it's not safe to do while pregnant, which suited me just fine because (a) the solution that they use to dilate my pupils always makes my eyes hurt for hours afterwards and (b) the wrap-on sunglasses they give you to drive with are super dorky. Plus, the disclaimer that says something to the effect of "While most people can drive after pupil dilation, as long as they keep these sunglasses on, some people do die in fiery car crashes so please don't hold us liable" makes me a little bit leery of the whole thing.

A Dead Bird And Its Aftershocks

I was hit by a dead bird today. I was walking out to get lunch and I passed under a tree and something fell out and hit my shoulder and as it turned out, that "something" was a dead cardinal. A very pretty, dead cardinal. But its attractiveness doesn't change the fact that a diseased bird was within 6 inches of my face. Of course, since I tend to jump to the most far-fetched conclusions available, I immediately decided that it died of bird flu. Granted, there's a lot I don't know about bird flu. For example, what kind of birds are susceptible to it? I'm thinking cardinals are probably not the most likely carriers. And also, what's its prevalence in North Carolina? My guess would be zero. And finally, how is it transmitted? I have no clue--but I'm guessing that it ISN'T transmitted by dead birds hitting people on the shoulder. Right? So I'm fine. RIGHT?

But I'm thinking that at the very least, it's at least a bad omen for the rest of my day. I mean, it's considered bad luck to walk under a ladder or to see a black cat crossing your path, but almost being knocked out by a dead bird is perfectly okay? I don't think so. If I had to guess, I'd say that the omen is that you'll be faced with strange things for the remainder of your day, because here's what happened after the dead bird incident:

-About 5 minutes later, I got to Bruegger's and asked for beef chili, which they didn't have for the first time in 3 months. Instead, they offered me chicken chili. Thinking that they probably tasted the same, I said okay. As it turns out, chicken chili? Is WHITE. And has some strange beans in it that are definitely not kidney beans. And the chicken is cooked to the point that it kind of disintegrates into the soup, so really, it's not chili so much as it is baby food. However, by the last spoonful, it had grown on me and I might try it again next week. Maybe.

-About 40 minutes later, I asked the printer to print something for me AND IT DID! I know that doesn't seem out of the ordinary, but if you knew my printer, you'd realize just how magnificently unusual it is for the darn thing to do what you ask, when you ask, THE FIRST TIME you ask.

-About 90 minutes later, I got stuck between floors in the elevator. I've been expecting this to happen since the first time I rode in this particular elevator because judging by its shakiness and groan-iness, it's very possible that this was actually Otis' prototype of an elevator, but the fact remains that it happened TODAY, and not, say, two years ago.

So I've decided that (a) yes, having a dead bird fall on you IS an omen, but (b) it's not necessarily a BAD omen. Because after all, I liked the soup (in the end), the printer did something good (for once), and instead of dying a fiery death in the elevator, I pushed the emergency button and a maintenance guy came and fixed it (very, very quickly). And best of all? No signs of the bird flu (yet).

A Lacuna, If You Will

Every Tuesday afternoon, we have a lab group meeting, where my three co-workers and I all update our advisor (and each other) on what we've accomplished that week, as well as receive our tasks for the next week. Except that for the past three weeks, when it gets to be my turn to give a progress report or receive new tasks, the conversation has gone something like this:

Advisor: Anisha, you don't really have anything to do right now, do you?
Me: No. Not really.
Advisor: Okay.

And then, the meeting continues and I never actually get new tasks. So I spend the next week just kind of hanging out and reorganizing my desk, all the while listening to my three co-workers talk about how they have SO MUCH TO DO and WORK IS SO BUSY and THEY NEVER HAVE ANY FREE TIME. And, um...I feel a little bit guilty. Because I have (lots of) free time. And nothing to do. And I'm in no way, shape, or form even remotely busy. So to make myself feel better, I rearrange the office and straighten up our collection of snow globes and yesterday? I cleaned out the fridge AND microwave. And if I had a duster, I'd probably dust off all the filing cabinets and bookshelves.

Of course, I COULD spend this time finishing the latest edits to my proposal. Or I COULD be researching the term paper that's due in 2 weeks. Or I COULD be writing the mini-paper that's due TOMORROW. Instead, I think I'll re-hang all the posters.

Dental Diatribe

About two months after McMoose and I started dating, he revealed to me a great and lasting distaste for all things related to dental care and ever since then, I've been trying to get him to go to a dentist. Because his teeth? They're brown. And they have a grid-like set of lines on them. And I wouldn't be all that surprised if they all fell out of his head and he had to start wearing dentures. Except that he wouldn't go to the dentist to get the dentures, so he'd probably just wear the plastic Halloween costume teeth. (Which actually would be pretty cool).

So when we got engaged (almost 16 months ago, mind you), I told him that people die of heart disease EVERY DAY and dental health is (somehow) related to heart disease and if he didn't go to the dentist, he'd die by the age of 31. And he looked at me skeptically. And we argued about it CONSTANTLY. Because if he dies at the age of 31, I will be left with 1 dog, 2 cats, and at LEAST 1 child. And probably a mortgage and student loans. And then, I'll die, just from the sheer stress of it and then, the dog will go to a pound and the cats will be evicted and will probably get run over by a car on the highway and the kid will be sent to an orphanage, where he/she will have to pay off room and board, PLUS the outstanding mortgage and student loans by working in the circus. AND ALL BECAUSE MCMOOSE WON'T GO TO THE FREAKING DENTIST.

Finally, at the beginning of this year, I decided that the best way to quit arguing about it was to come up with a Dentist Deadline. So after discussing it for a while longer, it was decreed that the Dentist Deadline would be December 31st, 2008 and that by this date, McMoose would have gone to the dentist. Now...I don't know if you've looked at the calendar recently, but right now? It's November 18th. Which leaves us just about a month and a half until the Dentist Deadline. And not only has McMoose not yet been to the dentist, but when I oh-so-gently reminded him about the looming deadline, he replied with, "I know, but it's just so hard to find one." Because, you know, there isn't a dentist's office in EVERY SINGLE STRIP MALL IN AMERICA.

And the ironic part about all of this? My right incisor hurts and I would give ANYTHING to go to the dentist, but I have no dental insurance.

Resolutely Ignoring the Problem

Lately, we've been having this problem at work with things being printed out and not being claimed. Technically, this printer is only supposed to be used for work or school related things by people who belong to our lab group, and since there are only three of us, you'd think it would be fairly easy to match the material being printed with the person doing the printing. As it turns out, you'd be wrong about that.

Last Thursday, before leaving work, I took all the unclaimed papers and put them in the recycling bin. I happen to know for a fact that nobody was here on Friday. And yet, I walked in this morning to find no fewer than 32 pieces of paper with smiley faces on them. And another 4 that said, "Close this screen before opening document."

So I'm thinking that either (a) elves are coming in at night and printing out crazy things to try to get us in trouble or (b) our printer has accidentally been hooked up to a random computer in the building by mistake. I'm kind of hoping for scenario A because if it's scenario B, I'm going to have to go talk to the IT people. And really, I'd rather walk through about a mile of fire, followed by another mile of broken glass. I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but for once, I'm actually being serious. Because the IT people here? They HATE ME. With a deep and unending passion. Because the last two times I went down there, my complaints were as follow:

Time 1, about 4 months ago: my co-worker was typing something on his fancy computer with two flat screen monitors and suddenly, smoke started coming out of one of them.

Time 2, about three weeks ago: keys started falling off my laptop keyboard and then I'd accidentally put them back in the wrong spot and as a result, everything I typed was completely incomprehensible.

And now, I'm supposed to go tell them that there are random smiley faces being printed on our printer? And that no one is actually sending these TO the printer? Wouldn't that be similar to going to a neurologist and saying that you're having seizures because a ghost is trying to possess you and you're fighting back? Because to me, these two problems sound pretty similar in terms of their UTTER RIDICULOUSNESS.

An Uncommon Cold

I currently have my first cold of the past 20 months. Which is pretty impressive because before that? I caught EVERY SINGLE BUG that came along, which meant that I was sick for approximately 25 days out of every month. Apparently, my immune system finally decided to step up and do its job and as a result, the past 20 months have been amazing. So when I woke up with a sore throat a few days ago, I was very nervous, especially since I had heard that having any kind of illness while pregnant is pure hell. But so far? It's really not so bad. In fact, as perverse as this might be, I'm kind of enjoying it. I get to sit here, wrapped in a blanket, drinking GALLONS of hot (decaf) tea and hot chocolate. Plus, my temperature is finally at a toasty (and normal!) 98.6 degrees instead of hovering somewhere around 97 degrees, which means that all of my extremities are AT A COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE. Imagine that.

I'm sure it helps (a lot) that this as colds go, this one is fairly mild. Sure, I sneeze and cough and sound (and look) pitiful, but there's no fever and no crazy congestion and I have to say that after being nauseous for two months straight? This is EASY. I can still eat things and drink things and walk around and just generally act like a human being instead of a grouchy zombie. Plus, the headache that had been my constant companion for the past couple of weeks has taken a hiatus, which is just the icing on the cake.

And as long as this mild cold STAYS a mild cold and doesn't morph into some crazy strep/pneumonia thing, we'll be golden. And also, I hope the cough doesn't get much worse because...um...what do you do for a cough if you can't take cough medicine???

Thursday's Tale(s)

-I woke up this morning to find that Fall had quite literally fallen. Yesterday, all the leaves were on the trees. Today, there was an inch-high covering of leaves on the ground. I would've taken this as a sign that winter would soon be here, were it not for the fact that when I looked up at the trees, there didn't exactly seem to be a dearth of leaves up there, either. And moreover, all the leaves on the ground are yellow and brown, but the leaves on the trees are unrelentingly green. Which has led me to the conclusion that last night, someone shipped all the fallen leaves in Vermont and New Hampshire to the streets and sidewalks of Raleigh. Because really, what other explanation is there?

-During my morning drive, there's always construction of some kind, which means that usually, there are also flagmen who hold up those stop/go slow signs so that they can stop traffic when the construction trucks can move around without having to wait for a break in the never-ending traffic. But this week, instead of human flagmen, there's this quasi-railroad crossing type of mechanized crossing system that the driver of the construction truck controls. Presumably, this was done because (a) being a flagman at a construction site is probably both dangerous and not all that interesting and (b) mechanized crossing systems are probably cheaper than paying two people to stand there looking bored for 8-10 hours each day. But assuming that the construction company isn't under immediate risk of bankruptcy, and I know this is a big assumption to make right now, but assuming that's true--is now really the best time to eliminate jobs in favor of machines? I mean, those two flagmen who used to work at that site four days ago? Where did they go?

-Pets are expensive. And also? They're mean. They scratch you and bite you and take all your space in bed, and then they expect you to feed them and be nice to them.

The Dog: A Medical History

Every year, at about this time, the leaves start falling and the weather starts turning cool and The Dog starts acting strange. When he was 7 and we lived in Virginia, he started wheezing up a storm and he'd have these asthmatic spells in the middle of the night, when he'd shake and wheeze and cough and generally give me a panic attack because THERE ARE NO ANIMAL HOSPITALS OPEN AT 2 AM! After a couple of weeks of going through that every night, I took him to see the vet, who informed me that my dog was allergic to LEAVES and prescribed some Benadryl.

The next year, right around Halloween, he started having these strange seizure-like things at disturbingly frequent intervals, when he'd fall over on his side and one of his legs would shake uncontrollably and he'd whine pitifully. Convinced that he had a brain tumor, I again made the annual trip to the vet, where I was informed that he was "pre-arthritic," and that I should feed him collard greens. So for a couple of months, I spent my Sunday nights cooking up enormous portions of rice, hamburger meat, and collard greens for the week. After a while, the seizures stopped and I realized that I was spending more time cooking for The Dog than for myself, so I weaned him off the good stuff and back onto dog food.

But for the last couple of years, he's developed this horribly annoying habit of biting himself INCESSANTLY for months starting in early November. At first, we thought maybe he had fleas, but after checking him (several times) with a fine-toothed, flea comb, we've discovered that at most, he has imaginary fleas. And it's entirely possible that he has some kind of skin issue that makes him itch as the weather changes, but I just want him to STOP IT. So I've made him an appointment with the vet AGAIN to discuss this issue. And if they don't offer any suggestions, I'm shaving him bald and coating him with Orajel, in the hopes that the numbing medication will stop him from feeling the itch.

A Pleasant Surprise

Back when we were still discussing the whole do-we-want-to-have-a-kid thing, I had a list of reasons why now would be a great time and exactly 1 reason why it wouldn't: I'd have to tell my advisor about it. And that one con was almost enough to outweigh all the pros. As it happened, the pros won out in the end, but today, I had to face the music and have the conversation I'd been dreading for the past, oh, I don't know, ten years? (That was an exaggeration. In other words? A bald-faced LIE.)

So here's approximately how I was EXPECTING this conversation to go:
Me: Advisor, I just wanted to tell you that I'm pregnant.
Advisor: What? Pregnant? As in gestating a human being? Oh! The insolence! The insubordination! You're being kicked out of the program RIGHT NOW. Oh, and also, you're losing your health insurance!
*Fire. Brim stones. End of the universe.*

Oddly enough, that's not what happened at all. What ACTUALLY happened was more like this:
Me: Advisor, I just wanted to tell you that I'm pregnant.
Advisor: Oh, wow! Congratulations! What happy news!
Me, thrown completely for a loop: Um...yeah...it IS happy news. But...I just...uh...hm.
Advisor: So, how's the dog doing?

And then, we talked about remedies for itchy dogs for the next 10 minutes. This is exactly how EVERY conversation with my advisor should go.

McMoose: 1; Anisha: A Big, Fat 0

At some point last week, McMoose approached me with the idea of buying another car for the express purpose of having an extra car around in case one of ours should have a sudden temper tantrum and refuse to work. Plus, as the idea of the whole having-a-baby thing becomes more concrete, apparently he's starting to see the flaws in his decision to buy a sports car that has no room for a car seat. Of course, my first response was, "You want to spend thousands of dollars on ANOTHER car when you JUST BOUGHT A CAR less than a year ago? Um...No." And having had the definitive last word, I thought the matter was resolved.

Clearly, I underestimated the bond between McMoose and his odious car because no sooner had I uttered the word, "No," than his car decided to illustrate his point by promptly breaking down. Add to that the fact that my car is currently experiencing tire problems, and suddenly, my resolute "No" has turned into a wishy-washy "Well...maybe...let's talk about it." Except that the thing we've been talking about is NOT a car...it's an SUV. And since I have Great Disdain for SUVs, my response was, "You want to buy a gas-guzzling, environmentally unfriendly, at-risk-for-rolling-over, ugly SUV? Again, No."

And then I started thinking about the fact that we have a dog that travels with us when we go on long trips. And said dog comes with certain Necessary Items, such as his kennel. And the only way we currently have of transporting said kennel is to lay both my back seats down. And in 6 months, we'll have a child who also, presumably, will want to travel with us. And unless we're planning to tie either child or dog to the roof of the car, we'll need more space. McMoose, knowing an opportunity when he spots one, hunted down every used SUV in the greater Raleigh area and showed me a picture of a blue one. And in case you didn't know, blue vehicles? Very much my Achilles' heel. Guess what we'll be test-driving later this week...

Celebrate!

My accomplishments this week:

• Doing lots of productive work. LOTS. Including finally being able to get a woman on the phone whom I've been trying (and failing) to reach for the past three months. Granted, the conversation itself was very frustrating, but at least now I know that this person does actually exist and isn't just a figment of my somewhat overactive imagination.
• Knitting every single night. Which doesn't seem like an accomplishment, except when you consider that the thing I'm knitting is a baby blanket for a friend whose baby shower is in ONE WEEK. So I'm kinda facing a time crunch here.
• Gagging fewer than 20 times. For the ENTIRE WEEK. Do you have any idea how big a milestone this is? I can walk into a building without feeling sick! I can eat things with tomatoes in them! I CAN STAY AWAKE PAST 10 PM WITHOUT THROWING UP. See? Complaining to the universe does work.
• Hearing The Bug's heartbeat at the doctor's office this morning. Yes, the person who has taken up residence inside me will be called The Bug for the next month or so because (a) while we HAVE names picked out already, we don't know if it's a boy or girl and I'm sick of all variations of the baby/the fetus/the child-to-be, etc, and (b) it annoys McMoose when I call it The Bug.
• Being in my adviser's good books. Because in exactly 4 days, I'll have to bite the bullet and inform her about The Bug and then, I'll lose all the good will I've engendered over the past two and a half years, so I'm enjoying this while it lasts.
• BEING DONE WITH THE FIRST TRIMESTER. Dude, that's 33% of the pregnancy. And? It's the SCARY 33%. And I got through it and The Bug is apparently still alive and has a heartbeat. Which means that I now have to face the very real possibility that I might have an actual, human baby in about half a year.

Another Picture Post

I seem to be on a picture-posting kick lately, so I saw no reason to break with the trend.

I baked McMoose a cake for his birthday. See? I even drew a little green moose on it:

And THEN, my oh-so-wonderful Cats decided that it would be fun to play a rowdy game of tag, which ended when Yellow Cat chased Black Cat into the kitchen, where she promptly jumped up onto the counter and landed ON THE CAKE. Witness the paw print:

And then, realizing that she had stepped in something Most Unpleasant, she jumped about 4 feet in the air. Apparently, she hasn't quite grasped the concept of gravity because instead of jumping, oh, I don't know, AWAY from the pile of dishes, she jumped straight INTO them, breaking one plate and sending another one hurtling across the counter. Notice the broken glass:

All in all, a very exciting night. Plus, you know, the whole Obama-Winning-The-Election-Thank-GOODNESS thing. That helps too. A lot.

Happy Birthday, McMoose!!!

McMoose is now a quarter of a century old. As you can see, he's quite thrilled.

Nope. I didn't tamper with this photo at all. Not one bit. Nuh-uh.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It's Off To Work I Go!

The Office/Lab/Place where I spend 2o hours each week is acting very strange today. First, there's the fact that it's a Monday and yet, I'm the only one here today. I knew, coming in, that this would happen because my co-worker is out of town, so I was prepared for it, but the reality of sitting here all alone in a windowless room for 5 hours while imagining all the crazed axe-murderers who might come crashing through the wall at any moment is still rather disconcerting. Plus, with no one else here, I have no excuse to lolly-gag, so I actually have to be *gasp!* productive and do work. Which means that today has been a very good day, work-wise. But much of the past week was also good, work-wise, which means that even though I WANT to do things today, there's actually not a whole lot left to do.

Plus, when I came in this morning, I found hay lying on the carpet. Which wouldn't be all that strange if I worked in, say, a horse barn. But considering that I, in fact, work in a regular university building that is far away from all the agriculture and veterinary sciences buildings, I'm not entirely sure why there's hay on my floor. On the plus side, it did give me something to do as I first attempted to pick up all the hay and put it in the trash can, and then realizing that gathering up all the little hay pieces was damn near impossible, I decided it would be a much better use of time to write a note to hang on the door requesting that the room be vacuumed tonight. We'll see how that goes. Hopefully, it'll also pick up the goldfish cracker crumbs that have been ground into the carpet for about two months now.

And finally, there's the very strange alarm system that is currently being tested. It's not a fire alarm, because the fire alarm is loud and actually ALARMING. This is the In Case Of Otherwise Unclassified Emergency Alarm. I'm hoping that if there was an actual emergency, they'd describe the emergency instead of just saying "This alarm is to notify you of an Otherwise Unclassified Emergency." But presumably, this is the alarm you'd hear in case of a gas leak or the start of a nuclear war or the appearance of the aforementioned crazed axe murderers. Unfortunately, (a) you can't hear it in most of the offices or classrooms and (b) it's very...soothing. Kinda like a lullaby. So even in those rooms where it CAN be heard, people tend to listen to the lovely cadence of the announcement, but no one ever pays attention to what the announcer is actually saying. So the purpose of the alarm is somewhat defeated. And yet, on the first weekday of every month, they test the system for about 2 hours, right after lunch. And this is what is commonly known around here as NAP TIME.

Happy Halloween!!!

And in the spirit of the day, I thought I'd share some pictures.

Dog as an Elf

Yellow Cat as a pimped out Elf

Yellow Cat as a Ladybug

Black Cat as a Demon

Black Cat as a Demon, Take 2

I know it seems like Black Cat got the short end of the stick on this post, but...I don't have any pictures of her in a costume. So she got to be the Demon Eyed Cat. Sorry, Black Cat.

The Day Before Halloween

'Twas the Day before Halloween and all through the world, strange things were happening right in front of this girl. So strange were these things that she went to the computer, opened her blog and wrote about scooters.

Ok. I'm not really going to write about scooters. But it was the ONLY THING that (kind of) rhymed and (kind of) made sense.

• There was a road sign today on my way to work that said that the road will be closed for 5 hours this weekend because of a street race. Maybe I don't fully understand the nuances of that message, but...aren't street races dangerous? And also, illegal? And yet, the Department of Transportation (or whoever is in charge of putting up those electronic road signs and closing down roads) is okay with this? And even if I'm wrong and street races are actually as legal and safe as skim milk, is it really a great idea to have people racing on a street that is always teeming with pedestrians?
• I really enjoy walking across the quad on campus because there is always--ALWAYS--something crazy going on there. On Tuesday, there was a man re-enacting bible verses that pertained to hell and the devil. At one point, he halfway climbed up a tree, threw himself off, and then lay on the ground writhing and yelling about how if you succumb to sin, you will be thrown into the flames. Today, in that same spot, there was a condom distribution booth set up and the people who were running the booth had (hopefully unused) neon-colored condoms pinned all over their clothes. And they were tossing condoms to all passers-by. Since I passed by, I got one flavored like cookie dough ice cream. Didn't even realize they MADE those.
• For the past six weeks or so, I've gone to Bruegger's for lunch every Tuesday and Thursday. And every single time, I get a bowl of soup and a strawberry yogurt. And EVERY SINGLE TIME, the woman at the counter says, "Soup and a yogurt, what a combination!" And she says it like it's the first time she's ever said it. Every. Single. Time. So now I'm wondering if maybe she has that form of amnesia where you keep losing your memory every few minutes, so she really thinks that we've never had this conversation before.

A Disclaimer

So. Back when I was busy being envious of pregnant people, I was the kind of obnoxious human being who thought things like "Oh, morning sickness...I'd SO like to experience morning sickness!" and "I can't wait until my clothes no longer fit me because that will mean I'm growing a PERSON, how cool!" Now that I'm 12 weeks into this mess? Um. 28 weeks seems like a really, really long time to go.

Now, let's backtrack for just one teeny, tiny moment so that I can say that there are STILL days when I'm grateful for the crazy, tomato-product fueled nausea because it serves to convince me that all is going well with this pregnancy. That said, when I'm actually in the MIDST of this aforementioned sickness? All I can think is "Oh. My. God. I CHOSE for this to happen to me."

And granted, when I'm at home, it's very exciting that when I look in the mirror, I very definitely look bigger because this FURTHER convinces me that maybe, just maybe, we'll get to bring home a baby in about 7 months. But. If I'm showing at home, it means I'm showing at work. Which means that (a) three people have told me in the past 24 hours that it looks like I've been overindulging in donuts and the like and (b) I now have to constantly wear a jacket because of the whole not-being-ready-to-tell-my-advisor thing.

But every time I think something like "Geez, I wish this nausea would GO AWAY already," or "Hm, it sure would be nice if I could fit into my pants without using a rubber band contraption to hold them closed," the very next thought in my head comes from the snarky, superstitious voice telling me to SHUT UP before the universe hears me complaining and decides to take away the nausea, the belly, AND the baby. So this is my message to the universe: "Dear Universe, I'm THRILLED to be pregnant. I'm excited to be experiencing these things because the alternate would be terrible. But when the smell of BEING INSIDE makes you gag every time you walk into a building and it's too cold outside to live in a tent? You're allowed to voice your complaints."

And I Decided To Go To Grad School Because...?

Reason # 151 to avoid academia:

Me: Hi, Stats Professor, I had some questions about the Statistics I'm using for my thesis. So...if I wanted to determine whether the improvement of scores is greater in Group A than in Group B, what would I do?

Stats Professor: Well, you could think of it as a correlation of related correlations. But that wouldn't fully capture the improvement, so maybe instead, you should think of the first set of scores as predicting the second set. Then, all you have to do is write an equation to remove the correlation between the two sets, and then add group membership as your new predictor. But make sure you also look at the interaction between the correlation and group membership, because otherwise, you might be looking at a three-dimensional issue from a two-dimensional viewpoint.

My notes as a result of this conversation: Correlations...group membership...three dimensional...good grief, I'm NEVER GOING TO GRADUATE.

And Reason # 152 to avoid academia:

Advisor: Anisha, Professor Z wants a new publication, so I told her about the literature review section of your thesis proposal. So if you don't mind, could you send me an electronic copy of that so that I could share it with her and see if she wants to publish it?

Me: Um. Ooookay. I guess. But. If Professor Z publishes MY literature review...um...I'd get SOME credit for it, right?

Advisor: Oh, we'd never publish it without your approval!

Side note: My literature review is the thing I've worked on for the past SEVEN MONTHS. By myself. With no input WHATSOEVER from Professor Z. Who now gets to "see if she wants to publish" MY work. And if she decides that she likes it, I get the grand and wonderful privilege of "approving" all this. Notice how "approval" is not the same as "authorship." And even if I did manage to talk my way into getting credit for the authorship of the paper that I wrote in the first place, I would, at best, be listed as the fourth or fifth author. On the paper that--oh, did I mention?--I WROTE!

We Went To The Animal Fair

After 10 full days of HATING the Fair's very existence and what it meant to my daily commute (ie- added an extra 10-30 minutes, depending on the time of day), we finally made it out there yesterday. And as usual, it was terrific. Of course, this year, we had to avoid all the places with animals because the smell of dozens of animals in an enclosed space? Not the greatest when you're already sensitive to smells. But we did stay for 3 hours and despite the raging headache that I earned at the end of it, it was oh-so-worth-it. And here's why:

12:20 - arrive at Fair. Realize that it's 80 degrees and that perhaps the sweater you had chosen that morning was slight overkill. Spend the next three hours trying (fruitlessly) to roll up the sleeves.
12:30 - enter the Fair after standing in what might have been the shortest entrance line EVER. Head straight for the food.
12:32 - eat a corn dog. A yummy, deep-fried, very unhealthy corn dog. Reflect on the fact that this might be the best corn dog ever created.
12:35-12:45 - follow McMoose around as he looks for kebabs because the kebabs at the first stall we pass might not have been good enough. Grumble.
12:50 - McMoose finally decides that in the absence of other options, the kebabs at the first stall would do just fine. Return to the first stall, where McMoose promptly decides that he wants kebabs AND an gyro. Wonder silently which one of you is growing the extra person.
1 - 1:15 - sit in the grass as McMoose munches on his lunch. Realize that perhaps that one corn dog might not have been enough to fulfill your now-constant hunger.
1:20 - Notice an elephant ears stall. Buy an elephant ear with powdered sugar. Get powdered sugar all over your clothes in the process of gobbling what might be the most perfect elephant ear ever created.
1:30 - Start looking for some games.
1:45 - FINALLY find the game stalls. Try to pop some balloons with darts. Fail miserably. Rejoice when you realize that the guy who runs the stall wasn't watching and lets you have a stuffed lobster despite the miserable failure.
1:55 - Walk around shaking your 3-inch-long stuffed lobster, feeling proud. Notice someone else walking around with a 3-foot-long stuffed gorilla. Think to yourself that the lobster is better anyway, because who has room for a 3-foot-tall stuffed gorilla in their living room?
2 - Find another game where you have to throw some rubber balls onto a grid and try to get 5 in a row. Almost keel over in surprise when you actually get 5 in a row. Win a 2-foot-tall stuffed gorilla. Realize that all your prior reservations about large stuffed gorillas have now disappeared.
2:15 - Find a skeeball stall. Spend an unreasonable amount of time, effort, and money playing skeeball. After 10 minutes and $15, realize that you're never going to win at this. Leave.
2:30 - Realize that it's STILL hot and that you're STILL wearing that darned sweater. Grumble. Decide it's time to go home.
2:40 - Make one last stop at a food stall. Buy a very large plate of sweet potato chips. Proudly carry it to the car, trying to ignore the stares of EVERY.SINGLE.PERSON you pass.

Hands down, the best way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

A Most Woeful Dilemma

A couple of weeks ago, when we had gone to visit my mom and stepdad, we brought back a dresser that used to be mine about a decade ago. For about two years now, my mom has been threatening to throw it out and I have said "No, don't do that...I'll get it the next time I visit." And for two years, I kept forgetting that promise. But then! I began making the mental list of all the baby stuff we need and it occurred to me that hey! The dresser is still around! And in reasonably good condition (i.e.- still standing). And it has a carved in design of Winnie-the-Pooh and all of his little friends. And best of all? IT'S FREE!

So we picked it up and brought it home and looked at it and I realized that it didn't look QUITE the same as I had remembered. It had some water stains and some burn marks and the handles on the drawers left a lot to be desired. But no problem, because I had planned to refinish it anyway, so that it would match other things in our apartment. And that, right there? That's where this whole plan starts to fall apart. Because as it turns out, refinishing old furniture? Not as easy as it looks on HGTV.

So we went out and bought sandpaper and the right color of stain and some staining brush-pad things and thought we were all set. And we came home and we sanded. And sanded. And sanded. And after a while, I decided that I HATE sanding and passed that task on to McMoose so that I could begin staining the drawers that had already been sanded. At which point, we realized that sanding ALL the previous stain off the drawers? Not a good plan. Apparently, you're only supposed to sand the varnish off. Who knew! So the next bout of sanding went by much, much faster and we got everything stained a beautiful mahogany color and I thought "Feh. This was eeeeaaasy."

And then, we bought the finish. The clear-coat finish. Which was made to go on top of stained furniture. And there was some warning about "This product might irrevocably damage the stain on your furniture," which I promptly disregarded because this product, as I already mentioned, was MADE to go on top of stained furniture. That's the entire PURPOSE of this product. So why in the world would it damage the stain? I still can't answer the why part of that question, but what I can tell you is this: NEVER DISREGARD WARNING LABELS. EVER. Because as soon as I put the finish on, it began blistering my previously beautiful stain, until it looked like the entire dresser had a horrible skin disease.

Which means that we are now back at the sanding phase. And when I say "we," I mean McMoose. And this weekend is colder than last weekend, which means that I am going to be that much grumpier when I'm out on the balcony re-staining everything. And furthermore? What am I supposed to use to finish this project after I stain it? I mean, if I can't use the product that was INTENDED for this use, what am I supposed to use instead? Cling wrap? Clear Elmer's glue? WHAT?

Thursday: The Third Day

The long awaited bullet post.

• I almost got run over by a man-boy on a bicycle today. And when I say "almost," I mean that he rode OVER my foot and had I not jerked away and put my arms out and pushed him away from me, I would have bike tire impressions on my face right now. I feel bad about pushing him. But I would have felt much worse about the bike tire impressions. And also, this guy? Was leaking alcohol out of his very PORES. At 10 in the morning. Maybe I should start a don't-drink-and-bike campaign.
• I saw a flier for the Underwater Electronics Club today. Let's think about this, shall we? I'm no electrical engineer, so my understanding of this subject goes something like this: Electronics + Water = Not Usually A Good Thing. So...wouldn't the Underwater Electronics Club be somewhat synonymous to the Let's Do Stupid Things That Will Probably Get Us Killed Club?
• Number of times I've tripped today: 14.

Sockin' It Up

I'm a sock person. And I'm also a shoe person and an earring person and a purse person. By which I mean that I have a special fondness for all of these articles of clothing and that, as a result, I tend to gravitate towards them any time I walk into a store, and as a result of that, I have a healthy collection of all of them. But as I was rummaging through my sock drawer this morning, looking for a pair that was relatively free of holes, it occurred to me that lately? I haven't really been buying socks. In fact, most of my new sock acquisitions of the past two or three years have been gifted to me by McMoose or my mom, both of whom are painfully familiar with my obsession.

And then, it further occurred to me that my 16-year-old self would be sorely disappointed in my 24-year-old self. Because that 16-year-old was CERTAIN that by age 24, she'd be living in some big city, spending every spare cent on socks and purses and shoes and earrings. And instead, here I am, living in what can only be described as a suburb. And the idea of spending 5 dollars on socks when that same 5 dollars could instead go towards making my bank account just a tiny bit happier has suddenly become odiously unacceptable. But. I have a pitiful, hairy, pointy-eared Dog and two very entertaining Cats. And I have a McMoose who makes me tea and who doesn't force me to watch gross, gory movies even though it's ALMOST HALLOWEEN. And I have this lemon-sized person that I'm growing. And the idea of being perpetually broke in a cold, grimy city is starting to lose some of its lustre.

But maybe I'll go buy a pair of socks this weekend.

Do You See What I See?

Things I saw today which warrant a mention here:

1. A pick-up truck hauling a pumpkin that was approximately the same size as a St. Bernard. Not even joking. What do you DO with a pumpkin that size?

2. A so-called "adult fair" that had been set up on campus. There was a cardboard cut-out of a cow wearing a diaper. And a very large plastic ladybug that had a path/maze that you could walk around in. I feel like there's a joke or a statement of some kind here, but...I'm just not getting it.

3. A woman walking out of one of the pizza shops near campus with a child who was on a leash and a dog who was not.

4. A bottle of cranberry juice that had expired in May of 2006. It looked (and according to my advisor, smelled and tasted) relatively normal.

5. A group of people carrying "Support free speech" signs next to a group of people who were trying to get a certain book banned from the university library. And then, when I walked by again an hour later, the two groups of people were eating lunch. Together. And talking. And laughing. What?! You can disagree with someone and still enjoy their company? IMAGINE THAT!

And so today has been megawatts brighter than yesterday.

Is This A Symptom of Pregnancy?

I have many anxious days, days when I feel like I have 20 million tasks to accomplish and not only is there not enough time to accomplish them all, but there isn't even enough room in my head to REMEMBER them all. Days when I am convinced that all the good things in my life are destined to smolder and die. Days when I really, truly wish that I were a religious sort of person, if only so that I could say (and actually BELIEVE) that "God is in control here." And on most of these anxious days, I make lists on post-it notes and I write emails to myself and I whine to McMoose. And also on most of these anxious days, I make an active effort to write about something else, some other mundane part of my day on this blog. Because for one thing, the 20 minute break that I take from the otherwise unstoppable anxiety is usually a sanity saver and for another, I started this blog with the intention of writing about ironic or colorful or somewhat humorous parts of my day.

But today, I'm making an exception because today, my anxiety has reached such a level that I cannot--CANNOT--distract myself for long enough to compose a coherent post. And if I tried, it would be a meaningless rant about how I left my keys in the car this morning and had to walk all the way back to the parking deck to retrieve them in the cold, cold wind. And really, my head and hands are incapable of composing that particular post.

So instead, I'm using this forum to document just how crazy I feel today. Crazy-rushed. Crazy-frantic. Crazy-worried about all the worst case scenarios that my mind is hellbent on creating. And that last one, that's the one that takes me to the brink of the about-to-lose-my-mind kind of crazy. Because the rushed and the frantic can be cured by going down my to-do list and checking off tasks as I complete them and then, two days from now, I would be all caught up and life would be normal again. But. The crazy-worried part of my head is so anxious about EVERYTHING that I can't even begin to focus on that to-do list.

And really, the rational part of my brain does recognize that these things I'm worried about? Most of them are Highly Unlikely. Unfortunately, the rational part of my brain is being outvoted right now by the highly irrational, very pessimistic part that insists on thinking that the world is coming to a fiery end any day now. Which means that all I feel capable of doing today is hiding under a blanket and waiting for tomorrow, in the hopes that tomorrow will be a brighter day than today.

Traffic, Cracker Barrel, and a Vegetable Stew

Again, the bullet-post. Again, a day late.

• Amount of time it normally takes me to drive home: 25 minutes. Amount of time it took me to drive home last night: 75 minutes. Why, you ask? Because yesterday was the first day of the State Fair. Now, I get that the State Fair is a big deal and that it only comes once a year and all that. But seriously. Whose idea was it to put the fairgrounds on one of the BUSIEST STREETS in Raleigh?
• Amount of time it normally takes me to drive to work in the morning: 25 minutes. Amount of time it took me to drive to work this morning: 50 minutes. Not as bad as last night, but let's keep in mind that this was at 9:30 on a Friday morning. Which means that as I was chugging along on my way to work, I had to pass all the cheerful families who got to play hooky from work and school so they could munch on boiled peanuts and funnel cakes. YES, I'M JEALOUS.
• I'm very happily counting down until 7:30 this evening because (a) I get to have dinner with a very good friend and (b) that dinner will be had at CRACKER BARREL. Which tends to be synonymous to PURE, UNADULTERATED JOY. I'm already scanning my mental map of their menu and trying to decide what KIND of joy I plan to indulge in.
• I'm feeling kind of short and squat today. And yesterday. Possibly because every single person I've encountered for the past 36 hours has been about 7 feet tall. I'm the eggplant in a world full of carrots.

Of Mice And Dogs

As I was walking to get my lunch today, I came across a very small, brown animal of some kind that scared the living daylights out of me because given the size, my immediate assumption was that it was a rodent of some kind sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Then, I noticed that it had a little red collar, which was connected to a little red leash, which was connected to a woman wearing a little red raincoat a few feet away, so I looked again. Because really, even the most ardent rodent lovers don't tend to bring their pet rats for walks on a leash, right?

As it turns out, it was NOT a rat, but rather a teeny-tiny, very shaggy dog. Imagine a St. Bernard that weighs about 1.5 pounds. I think this might be the ideal dog for us because I like St. Bernards and McMoose likes small little rodent-type dogs. Sadly, by the time I got over my fear of the rat like thing and decided that this would be the perfect pet for us (you know...in a world where we had the time and inclination to have MORE pets...), the woman and the dog had already crossed the street and I couldn't ask her what kind of dog it was. And google? Not very helpful in this particular quest.

Hypothetically Speaking

The whole being-in-charge-of-your-own-healthcare thing is going quite poorly. This morning, I called my doctor's office to check on the price of a test that may or may not be covered by my insurance. Chances are that I'll have the test done regardless of whether it's covered by insurance, but I'd like to know ahead of time how much I'm going to have to pay. Because knowing that kind of thing helps prevent heart attacks upon finding a ridiculously high bill in the mail. Plus, if it's too ludicrously expensive, I'd like the opportunity to refuse the test BEFORE they take another five gallons of blood from me. So in the interest of being an informed consumer, I made the call.

Me: Hi, I'm calling to find out about the cost of Test X if insurance doesn't pay for any of it.
Billing Agent: Well, it'll depend on whether your insurance pays for some of it.
Me: No. I want to know just the cost of the test. If insurance didn't cover any of the cost, what would I have to pay?
BA: That depends on your insurance.
Me: O...kay. What if I didn't have any insurance? Then how much would it be?
BA: Well, we accept Medicare. And if you're not insured, we can have one of our insurance experts talk to you about applying for Medicare.
Me: No, I AM insured. I just want to know the cost of the test. Ok, suppose I told you that I didn't want you to file a claim with my insurance for this test and I wanted to pay for it out of pocket. How much would it cost then?
BA: Ma'am, you're going to have to call back this afternoon and talk to my manager.

WHY is it so hard to get the answer to a simple, little question?

Doggy Daycare, Part 2

We were in New Jersey visiting my mom and step-dad this past weekend, which was fun and exhausting all at the same time. I always like driving up north this time of year because even though it's still very much summer here in North Carolina, the trees change from green to yellow and red to brown to halfway bare by the time we're in New Jersey and it kind of feels like traveling through time. Plus, this time McMoose went with me, which was a nice change because I had someone to split the driving with and also, someone to help me find my way back to the interstate when I got lost. Because the GPS system? It kinda sucks at that job.

But this trip was also a little bit nerve wracking because of the whole having to put the Dog in a kennel for the first time in a couple of years thing. We did the research. We found a kennel. We made the reservations and made sure he was up to date on his shots and packed his favorite toys. And we left him with the intimidating looking man at the kennel and hoped that when we returned in three days, he'd still be alive. Luckily for us, not only was he alive when he returned, but he was also freshly bathed and dressed in a very nice, green and blue plaid bandanna. He looked very dapper.

So it's a good kennel, right? They didn't kill the dog. Presumably, the fed him because he wasn't acting like a ravenous wolf when we picked him up. And hopefully, they walked him. But. Whenever I take him out of town or leave him with anyone, I always, ALWAYS pack at least 1-2 days worth of extra food. And this time was no exception. Plus, we picked him up an entire day early. And yet, his food supply was completely gone when we got him. Which means that (a) they fed him twice as much as they should have, (b) they fed his food to other dogs, or (c) they took the remainder of his food. Ok. Fine. I can deal with that. But. They ALSO took his rawhide bone. His BRAND NEW rawhide bone. Which means that I now have to buy not only a new bag of food, but also a new bag of bones. So I saved money on boarding him, but then spent MORE than I saved on his bath, his walks, and the food and bones. Super.

In Which Introductions Are Made

I'd like to introduce the reason why, for the past two months, I've been both ravenous and nauseous, tired but unable to stay asleep for any length of time, and bouncing back and forth between grouchy and completely thrilled with the world:

Yes, I know it looks like a fuzzy jelly bean. I have great hopes that it will grow out of that phase within the next 7 months. Just as a reference, the head's on the right of the screen and if you look very, VERY closely, you can see toes on the left. Why exactly do fetuses grow fingers and toes before they grow arms and legs???

Things I Did At Work Today

-Spent 10 minutes trying to figure out why my computer wouldn't turn on. Then realized it was because maintenance had vacuumed last night, which means that they had unplugged my computer so they could plug in the vacuum.

-Felt foolish about my above mentioned technological snafu.

-Read through an email that my health insurance company sent me, which informed me that Campus Health Services has an extensive array of services offered and that if I needed health care, I should consider them first. Rolled my eyes because I get this same email every time I go to an outside doctor and a claim is filed. Sorry BCBS, but sometimes, a Tylenol and a band-aid just doesn't do the job.

-Painted my co-workers fingernails. (WHY?)

-Completed about 70% of two separate crossword puzzles.

-Ran some stats. Got annoyed. Returned to the crossword puzzles.

-Finished editing my thesis proposal.

So see? It's been a VERY productive day.

Another Letter I'd Like To Write

Dear Cable and Internet Company,

I understand that you're highly concerned over the fact that you think I haven't returned the router from my old apartment. However, I wish YOU would understand that I'm highly concerned over the fact that I did, in fact, return it. Two-and-a-half months ago, to be exact. And since then, I have had no fewer than SEVEN conversations with various customer service representatives in which I have tried to explain the fact that I already returned it. And each time, the representative has been very polite and helpful and has assured me that he or she will change the records immediately to reflect the fact that I returned it. And then, two weeks later, I get YET ANOTHER letter from you about how concerned you are that I still haven't returned it.

In fact, the latest series of letters have all been in the form of an invoice and nowhere on the invoice does it mention WHAT exactly I'm being billed for. So if I didn't make it my business to know the exact amount of my regular monthly bill, I might very well be tricked into paying for equipment THAT YOU ALREADY HAVE sitting in some warehouse because I might think I'm just being billed for regular services. I applaud the nefarious plan, but would like to point out that you're not exactly endearing yourselves to me. And furthermore, the worst part of all of this is that I HAVE THE RECEIPT saying I returned the darn router. Which means that all you have to do is (a) ask me to fax you a copy or (b) agree to let me come into your office and SHOW you a copy. And since you refuse me both those options, the end result is that I have to take the time and effort every couple of weeks to try to sort this out. At this point, all I really have to say to you is that you and your collection agency had better not be messing with my credit rating over this mess.

Sincerely,
A Customer Who Is MOST DISPLEASED With Your Monopoly Over Cable Services.

The Burning Car

As I was driving to work this morning, I noticed a faint, burning smell, which made me instantly nervous because the last time I had noticed that particular smell, my engine exploded. Granted, that was my old car and this is my new(er) car, and so far, all the problems I've ever had with this car have been a direct result of Things I Have Done. Leaving the parking brake on while driving across town, for example, caused the once-silent brakes to squeal and express their general unhappiness. And then, there was the time when I swerved to avoid a cow (yes, a cow) and got too close to a dump-truck, which then threw a very large rock at me, causing what has become a very large crack in my windshield. But even knowing that my current car has never given me cause for concern, my first reaction when I got a whiff of that burned smell was to hit my brakes and stare suspiciously at my hood for any telltale smoke. Luckily for me, there was none.

Not so luckily for the guy driving the Very Old Car in front of me, there WAS smoke coming up out of his hood. In fact, it's what I would have defined as A LOT OF SMOKE. An unhealthy amount of smoke, even. And yet, he seemed completely unconcerned as he just continued driving on through that haze. People on the sidewalk pointed and stared. Cars that were around him slowed down so that if he did explode, we wouldn't explode along with him. And STILL, he was perfectly unconcerned. So I gotta ask: what kind of life experience makes you that calm in the face of potential death? Does his engine just catch on fire so regularly that it's now a commonplace part of his life? My curiosity about this guy has been hopelessly, irrevocably piqued.

A Letter I'd Like To Write

Dear Cell Phone Company,

My phone no longer rings when people call it. And sometimes, it tells who ever is calling that the number is no longer in service, which leads them to believe that I've died a fiery death. And then, they email me about how they're worried about this fiery death possibility, and then I have to email them BACK in a timely manner and reassure them that in fact, I am fully alive and quite un-burned. And quite frankly, this is not an email that I enjoy writing. Especially not multiple times. So if you could just go ahead and fix whatever glitch is causing this, that would be FANtastic. And also, the next time I call your customer service line and your only suggestion is that I get a NEW phone, even though my current phone is less than 2 years old and THEN you inform me that if I DO get a new phone, I'd have to pay the full, non-promotional price (aka: $200) for it, please don't be surprised if I reach through the phone lines and flick your ear.

Sincerely,

Your not-so-faithful-anymore customer.

Odds, Ends, Etc

• The pants I chose this morning don't fit. And of course, I didn't realize just how much they don't fit until AFTER I got to work, so there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. *GROWL*
• There are days when I just feel really, really good about this world and today? Definitely one of those days. Not that this general feeling of contentment is in any way influenced by the EVENTS of the day because in addition to the ill-fitting pants, my test score was slightly disappointing and I spilled my lunch on my pretty shirt and the list, it goes ON. But then, there's the fact that it's the PERFECT temperature outside--warm enough for flip-flops, but cool enough for a sweater, lots of sunshine, but also lots of breeze. And I've decided that fall is the best time to be on a university campus, ever.
• Even though I'm an awful procrastinator, I'm actually very possibly the most self-motivated person in my immediate circle of grad school friends. Which means that (a) my advisor likes me right now and (b) maybe I'll actually graduate and have a Master's degree within the next 7 months.
• McMoose has strep throat. I don't. And as much as I HATED being sick for the entire 2 years that I worked in daycare, I gotta say, I'm very much enjoying this boost to the immune system that has gotten me through the past 19 months without so much as a scratchy throat. So apparently, if you want to enjoy a period of good health, all you have to do is expose yourself to every virus in the known universe first, and then you're set.

Double the Trouble

Lately, I've been having issues with being double billed for things. Yesterday, for example, I bought a bowl of chili for lunch and the cashier told me that my total would be $9.68. And I automatically pulled out my check card and was about to hand it to her, when I realized that in no way, shape, or form was I going to pay almost ten dollars for a little bowl of soup. So I brought up that point and the cashier realized that she had pushed the button twice and all was well with the world.

And of course, there's the cable company who, for the past two and a half months has been trying to get me to pay for a piece of equipment that I have ALREADY returned. Every couple of weeks, they send me a bill and then I call them and say "Look here, I already returned this," and they say they're going to correct it in the system and then two weeks later, there's another bill. So I'm kinda getting sick of this little song and dance and I'm starting to consider just paying them and being done with it because in all reality, that $35 isn't going to make THAT much of a difference in my life. Except that on the other hand, I feel like I'd just be paying off a corporate bully and that I should continue this mess until I prevail. But...what if I never prevail? What if I'm 80 years old and I'm still having my biweekly conversations with these fools? And even worse, what if they actually follow through on their threats to send my account to a collection agency and then that somehow messes with my credit rating and then I can never own a home or get a credit card? WHAT THEN?

Doggie Daycare

Ever since moving to Raleigh, any time we've gone out of town, we've taken the Dog with us. This was partly because we love him and want him to be with us, but it's also in large part because we haven't been able to find a decent kennel. And by "decent," I mean "a place that will remember to feed the Dog, but also cost less than $25 per day." But as you may have gleaned from reading other posts about the aforementioned Dog, he's not exactly the best behaved animal in the world. And as he lived with my mother for 6 years before coming to live with me, she knows all about his bad behavior and as a result, he is no longer allowed to visit her house.

So since we're planning to visit her in two weeks, finding a kennel became a fairly pressing issue. Since I know from experience just how impossible THAT task happens to be, I gladly passed it on to McMoose. And of course, he very quickly discovered what seems to be the one kennel in all of Raleigh that seems (a) not horrifying and abusive and (b) not ridiculously expensive. Except that this place? It gives "treating animals like babies" a WHOLE new meaning. Because while the base cost of boarding the dog is reasonable, the extras that you can add on are the dictionary definition of CRAZY.

For example, you can pay for your dog to get a midday and midnight snack. And for a special plush bed. And for a "climate controlled" run outside (which I'm thinking probably means "shielded from the rain"). And for your dog to be tucked in at night, complete with a goodnight HUG. And, AND for a wall-mounted TV that plays dog themed movies at certain times of the day. Is it just me, or does all this seem a little bit...excessive? I love the Dog and all, but...he doesn't really CARE about movies. In fact, when he hears a dog barking on TV, he sighs, rolls over, and goes back to sleep. And most of the time, I don't think he even LIKES being hugged. So really, the only option I want to add on is "please try to keep my dog alive for the 4 days that he'll be with you and if at all possible, don't let any of the other dogs beat him up." That's all I ask.

Statistically Speaking

My advisor created a survey about scientists. And then, we had lots of people fill out the survey, and now, my job consists almost entirely of looking at the results from these people that filled out the survey. And my conclusion is that human beings? Are NUTS. Seriously, they make no sense whatsoever. Because if they made sense, they would not say that in their opinion, scientists are both organized AND disorganized. Or that scientists are both technically competent AND technically incompetent. Because really, HOW CAN YOU BE BOTH? And yet, somehow, in the minds of the people who filled out these darn surveys, you can indeed be both popular and friend-less, all at the same time.

So my job this week is to try to decide which of these crazy people actually believe what they're saying on the surveys and which ones just didn't read the questions and marked down random answers. Which means that I've been combing through the 130 responses to almost 200 questions. Which means that my head? Is THIS close to exploding. Because in case I didn't mention it before, the answers, they DON'T MAKE SENSE. And next time, we should give this survey to computers instead because I bet you a billion dollars that computers would answer the questions consistently.

The Usual Ramblings

-McMoose has the day off today. I don't. Granted, I'm only working until noon, which is now only an hour-and-a-half away, but the point remains that he got to sleep in and I didn't. And the point further remains that he gets to be at home RIGHT NOW and I don't. And the point further remains that I'm used to being the one who has a lot of time off, so this turnaround feels very strange to me.

-There was a time, 3 summers ago, when I thought "Hey, kittens are really cute. And I like them a lot. So I'm going to get one." So off I went to the shelter, where I chose the loudest little kitten there was, and I was so worried about his health and well-being that I trained him to sleep on the bed near my feet so I could check on him throughout the night. Which was fine when he weighed a pound, but now that he has increased that weight by a factor of 12, it's no longer fine. Especially now that I'm waking up every 30 minutes because I just CAN'T GET COMFORTABLE, it's very much not fine. But apparently, old cats refuse to learn new tricks like, say, sleeping on one of the eighty other soft surfaces in the apartment, so instead, we play power games all night long. And generally speaking, he wins.

-Apparently, all the professors who usually teach classes on Fridays in this building have decided that the weather is too wet and gloomy to hold class today, so there's no one here. Not one single person. In fact, the elevator hasn't even been making its habitual grumbling noises because it HASN'T BEEN MOVING. At all. All day. I feel like I'm in a ghost town. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to see tumbleweed blowing across the hallway.

Where's The Fire?

I got chased down by a firetruck this morning. I was driving, the road was busy (and only had one lane going each way), the firetruck got behind me, I panicked and turned into an Arby's parking lot...and the firetruck TURNED IN BEHIND ME. With lights flashing and horn blaring. So I thought okay, the fire is in the Arby's building so let me just go ahead on out of the parking lot and onto the side street...and the firetruck followed me AGAIN.

By this point, my entire body was dripping down a cold sweat and I was on the verge of a panic attack because when you've been trained for 8 years to GET OUT OF THE WAY of emergency vehicles and then one fine day, you find that no matter what you do, the emergency vehicle is behind you, you tend to get a little nervous. So I continued down the side street, which was both one-way and very, very narrow, so there was no place for me to pull over. Finally, I decided the best plan would be to pull into the nearest driveway...and GUESS where the fire was. Go ahead. Take a stab at it. If you guessed that it was in the house belonging to the driveway I pulled into, you get a shiny gold star for being well-versed in the evil schemes of Irony. Suffice it to say that I did not make it to class on time this morning.

The Dog has long since proven himself to be Most Untrustworthy in terms of being left in a room alone, so as a result, our apartment is gated and situated such that he is never allowed to be out of sight from us, ever. That way, when he tries to pull up the carpet or pee on the floor, he can't use the "But I thought you couldn't see me" excuse. And when McMoose and I are out of the apartment, Dog gets to spend quality time in his kennel. So you can imagine my surprise when I got home this afternoon and found myself greeted at the door by excited, doggy kisses.

My first thought was that maybe McMoose had worked from home today, but after a thorough search of the apartment (and a glance out at the parking lot), that did not seem to be the case. Then, I thought that maybe we forgot to put him in the kennel this morning, but after a thorough search of my memory, that didn't seem to be the case either. So I'm left now with the following questions: How did the Dog, who is sorely lacking in opposable thumbs, open BOTH the latches on the kennel door? How did the Dog, who can barely hop into my car, jump OVER the baby gate that has been set up to prevent him from wandering from the office (where the kennel is located) into the living room (where the Dog was located)? And perhaps most importantly, how is it possible that the Dog was wandering free in the apartment, but the trash had not been disturbed, the furniture had not been chewed, and there was no objectionable material on the carpet?