While Saturday night has already been covered in high-larious detail by my dear friends, I’d like to make it known that the gathering was everything it promised to be. Sex in the 90s was resplendent with flannelly AIDS and bushy mullets and update segments featuring white satin wedding cowboy hats. Noshes and beverages ran the gamut from cabernet and crudités to ring pops and gummi worms. Conversation flowed freely and connections were made. We were well into our evening when Crazy Neighbor busted in all Kramer-like, sporting a trench over a blazer over a sweater topped by a neon orange baseball cap that said Jamaica on it. In his time with us, he wandered around marveling at the décor, recounted his dinner with a sketchy Sopranos-esque figure, told rambling tales about G. Gordon Liddy, reminded us several times that he oversees four mental health clinics and has 80 employees, tried to engage us in group therapy, told Red that each of us were people she would stay in touch with forever, and shared a green, leafy substance that turned my compatriots into zombies.
In depressing news, today marks our eighth consecutive day of rain. It’s nothing like the kind of records they set in Seattle, but it is annoying. Yesterday we were at my grandparents’ house for Mother’s Day and on the way home half the roads were closed. For fifteen minutes we drove around this random residential neighborhood, getting lost and encountering street lakes and DPW sawhorses at every turn. We had to backtrack into a town that has been on the news all weekend for the extent of its flooding just to get to the highway. And this morning Joe’s second interview had to be rescheduled (after he already trekked over there looking the picture of professionalism: wet trouser hems and a fleece jacket over his suit, toting a backpack full of schoolbooks) because the big shot he was supposed to meet with lives in the town on the news and was having flooding problems.
In other news, our downstairs neighbors had themselves a baby boy last week. We haven't seen him yet but I'm sure he'll be making his presence known soon enough. She was six weeks ahead of me, and there is only one other person that I know of between us, and she's having a scheduled C-section this Friday. Then there will be nobody. Then we start counting down. Once my appointments go from every two weeks to every week, that's when it will get really interesting.
Today was long and gray and boring. I had an offsite 2-hour meeting where I sat and felt the baby wiggle and hiccup. If not for that I might have fallen asleep.
In depressing news, today marks our eighth consecutive day of rain. It’s nothing like the kind of records they set in Seattle, but it is annoying. Yesterday we were at my grandparents’ house for Mother’s Day and on the way home half the roads were closed. For fifteen minutes we drove around this random residential neighborhood, getting lost and encountering street lakes and DPW sawhorses at every turn. We had to backtrack into a town that has been on the news all weekend for the extent of its flooding just to get to the highway. And this morning Joe’s second interview had to be rescheduled (after he already trekked over there looking the picture of professionalism: wet trouser hems and a fleece jacket over his suit, toting a backpack full of schoolbooks) because the big shot he was supposed to meet with lives in the town on the news and was having flooding problems.
In other news, our downstairs neighbors had themselves a baby boy last week. We haven't seen him yet but I'm sure he'll be making his presence known soon enough. She was six weeks ahead of me, and there is only one other person that I know of between us, and she's having a scheduled C-section this Friday. Then there will be nobody. Then we start counting down. Once my appointments go from every two weeks to every week, that's when it will get really interesting.
Today was long and gray and boring. I had an offsite 2-hour meeting where I sat and felt the baby wiggle and hiccup. If not for that I might have fallen asleep.
4 Comments:
BRILLIANT description of the creepy neighbor. I was laughing my ass off.
Also, yours is the only baby that really matters, so I'm personally only counting down for that one.
Yup, it feels like a little tick every 3 or 4 seconds. It goes on for a few minutes and then stops. It's cool.
Maybe she's farting.
That'd be awesome... except she has no air!
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