Monday, June 29, 2009
Somewhere about month 6 1/2 I "strained" a ligament. Not just any ligament - a pelvic ligament. Apparently is some totally natural (as I'm told...) ever-widening of the hip/pelvis area I strained it. And until the moment it "sprung" I was totally unaware a person even had pelvic ligaments. And, apparently in yet another totally natural (as I'm told...) occurrence pregnant people produce some hormone that helps their ligaments (pelvic and others) become, well, flaccid. This, no doubt, will come in handy come September when we deliver this baby, but for now has seriously hampered much of my forward mobility.
I remember the weekend it happened: it was somewhere between the 5k I ran and the horseback riding afterwards. Perhaps the combo? Either way it was totally aggravated by the miles and miles of walking we did while visiting Washington DC shortly after said straining. I'm sure if I were a man I could only equate the pain with being kicked repeatedly in my manhood. In my opinion, pelvic ligament strains hurt nowhere other than right where your junk would be. And really I wouldn't complain much because it only hurts when I stand from sitting or sit from standing, walk or jog, try to lower myself to go pee (which I do more often than is possibly normal), go up or down stairs or try to get in our out of bed. But once I'm up and going they're no stopping me....
The doctor's advice last week was rest (which is totally cramping my workout and slowing down the horseback riding) and ice - no heat, just ice. So, that's where the totally sexy part of being pregnant comes in: when Todd walks into the living room and I'm sitting in repose, comfortably watching TV, with a bag of frozen peas nestled next to 2 frozen steaks, both perched on my privates. Yes, there is nothing sexier than using your "strained ligament" as an excuse to thaw dinner....
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I've never really been a huge fan of BBQing. There's something so very, um, primitive about it that totally turns me off. I will admit though I'm a big fan of the no-dishes style cooking and the fact that on warm evenings it keeps the kitchen from becoming overheated. So, when the decision between the two tasks last night of mowing the lawn or BBQing dinner was to be divided Todd jumped on mowing the lawn. How hard could BBQing be? "5 minutes of each side for the chicken." he reminded me. Sure whatever. Perhaps its the fact that I like to mow the lawn sans the bagger (weighs you down) in 5th gear with my iPOD blasting that got me assigned to dinner duty.
The lawn looks fabulous! And here is what I learned:
1. 15 minutes per side for corn on the cob in the husk is too long on the BBQ. It, in fact, leaves very little husk on the corn. Husks also become flammable if left cooking too long and the corn becomes extremely dry.
2. 5 minutes per side is about right for a chicken breast on the BBQ. 15 minutes will char it and make it so dry it is fit only for chili the next night.
And, most importantly: 3. Chicken sticks to the hot BBQ and I was smart enough to realize I was going to need some PAM. However: it is imperative you spray the PAM onto the chicken and then place the chicken on the BBQ. Do not attempt to spray the PAM onto the grill. The grill has a fire going underneath it and PAM is extremely flammable.
In my opinion you're never too old to learn something new. I suspect I'll be on lawn duty next time.
Monday, June 15, 2009
...we survived our trip to our nation's capitol! There were times when, perhaps, I was wondering if we would make it home...alas, we survived.
I purposely, purposely, planned our flight so that we arrived in DC in the daylight hours. Why is this so important one asks? Well, from DCA (in Virginia) we had to board the Metro, travel to an unknown station, surface in a somewhat questionable area, and navigate ~5 blocks to Katie's house - all while towing our rolling luggage. So, naturally, our flight out of Philly was delayed 4 hours, which put us at DCA around 11:00 pm, just in time to catch the last Metro car to DC. We manage to find the Metro, buy tickets, board and surface at the correct station. We were, however, as the guy warned us on the Metro, in a "questionable neighborhood." Now, instructions like "on 6th between Q and R" may seem simple as first glance - but there are exactly 3 different directions one can go before they realize they're headed in the wrong direction. First, the street numbers were increasing - head back to 6th. Then, the alphabet was going the wrong way - head back to R....and we were off!! Questionable was right for a pregnant white girl from the back woods.....
The houses were your typical row houses, crammed right in next to one another with little steps and wrought iron gates. The sidewalks were terrible and crumbly. I was hauling ass ahead of Todd (hoping they would mug him, not me...) pulling my luggage (which sounded like a helicopter landing due to one semi-flat wheel...) when suddenly, the sidewalk was no more. The next thing I knew I was eating shit on the sidewalk outside of a house full of potential attackers - they were even 6 or 8 people outside smoking who saw the whole thing transpire! Now I was a prime target - I had already been downed!! I dropped my luggage and landed on both knees and elbows. Crap. I was convinced they were moments from pouncing when Todd pulled me back up to my feet. It seemed like eternity I was down.... I limped the rest of the way to Katie's where we promptly administered first aid to my skinned and bleeding knees while I retold the story of how I narrowly missed a full-on attack and DC mugging. And it just got better from there....
Thursday afternoon Frank, Katie, Todd and I took the Amtrak to Baltimore to watch the Mariners play the Orioles - and we won!! The park was amazing and the game was so much fun. We stayed in Baltimore overnight and hit the aquarium the next day. Prior to heading to the aquarium Todd and I thought we'd stroll to the nearby "International Market" to look for a spare shirt for him. Luckily the "Market" was only 2 blocks away and "markets" have shirts.....and weird chicken stands, and hookers, and thugs, and homeless, and crackheads selling wares from huge suitcases and so on. Realizing we are seriously "out of our element" so to speak, we made a B-line back towards the hotel. Todd didn't seem as worried as I was. 5'5", pregnant, blond and carrying an over sized purse made me a little worried - I will admit it.
As we near what I considered the "safe zone" we come upon a crackhead waiting for the bus munching on some Doritos. We watch him finish his Doritos and toss the bag onto the sidewalk. Being from the eco-minded, recycle-happy area of the northwest, Todd sees this as an opportunity to educate the man on proper trash disposal techniques by eliciting this statement: "Hey. The sidewalk isn't a trash can." I... was.... horrified. The guy reacted as one could expect: angry and confrontational. "Why don't you f***ing pick it up then!"....followed by a series of expletives I couldn't really discern because I was sprinting towards the hotel. Todd gladly picked it up and put it in the next trash can (about 10 feet from the bus stop) and we headed on our way. It's a fricking miracle we made it back. No shirts to be found, but at least we lived - I consider this a successful visit! I wouldn't recommend Baltimore, at least not the "International Market." Stick to the aquarium: it was awesome. The ballpark: phenomenal. The ghettos: not so friendly.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Mid February, 2009, Wednesday, approx. 5:10am, raining and 45Deg: My gas light has been on for a day...or so... and I must get gas this morning. Perfect! The nearest gas station is only 4 miles away and RIGHT next to the espresso stand!! As I round the last corner, maybe 2 miles straight shot to the station, the car begins lurching. Naturally, I punch the throttle and am going approx. 75mph when, 1/4 of a mile from the station with nowhere to pull off on a double lined blind hill, I get behind a huge truck going the speed limit. I just can't make it. I am forced to stop in the middle of the road (no shoulder), put on the flashers and hoof it to the station. I call Todd and he leaves work, meets me there and takes me to my car (where traffic has started to build.)
Todd: How long has the light been on?
Me: Only, like, a day.
Todd: When did it come on?
Me: On my way home from the doctor's office.
Todd: Your appointment was Monday. It's Wednesday. Your gas light came on in Bellingham, you drove home, to work, home, to work, home again and then tried to make it to the station? How many gas stations have you passed in the last 3 days?
Me: It's Wednesday? Hmmm. You sound like my dad. Take me to my car.
He empties the gallon jug and heads back to work. I proceed to the gas station to top the tank off. I forgot my purse in his truck on the first ride, so I have to call him to come back. Bummer. So, I get my latte (better late than never) and head to work. PS. Don't tell my dad.
Yesterday, Wednesday, approx. 5:30pm: My gas light came on while on my way to work, so after running a few errands, I figure its best to get gas before I head home. Naturally, I pick the busiest, craziest, quitting-time rush hour station to fill up. There's a huge line for the pumps, so I pick my spot and wait. A spot opens up and I pull in. The pump is on the opposite side of the tank, but no worries - my car is small and I will pull the handle over the roof and pump and be gone. I put in my card, select my grade and pull on the handle. It is too short! I cannot make it. Dammit. The vulchers are eyeing my spot, but I've already put my card in and it won't let me cancel the transaction. I will not pay for the next guy's gas!
The nice guy pumping gas beside me says, "I'll stand in your spot if you wanna back up and turn around." Perfect! Who says chivalry is dead? I say, "My husband will be so mad if I run out of gas again." He looks at me weird and says, "Again??"
So, I start to back out and just as I do some a-hole comes in at a perpendicular angle and tries to steal my spot. The car line up is so long that I can't get good distance to turn around so now I am wedged crooked - as is the jerk who trying to steal my spot. Total fiasco. The guy holding my spot gets the jerk out of there and after several cars rearrange their configuration I'm able to reposition my car and fill it up. Thank god. So, as I grab my receipt and start to go I realize there are SIX empty pumps nearby!! I should have waited just 5 minutes!! Either that or everyone left after witnessing my driving skills.
Either way, had I listened to my dad's advice this NEVER would have happened. He told me when I was sixteen (and every year since then): "It's just as easy to keep the top 1/2 full as it is to keep the bottom 1/2 full!!!" Agreed.