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.