Friday, July 30, 2004

Hold tight MFM lovers!

The Dog survived the pox, but is now addicted to the Benedryl buzz. He was so stoned this morn, I realized that he had taken one for no reason.

Mamacita keeps calling to make me increasingly paranoid about living in the same house as the pox-covered Dog. Grrrr. I am assured over and over by doctors and nurses that I am fine, yet that is not good enough for my family. Something bad MUST happen! We must FREAK her out!

I'm off in a few hours to spend the weekend with the in-laws at a rental cottage/resort placey in Haliburton. As I cannot drink, I don't know how I will survive. Particularly because they will all be drunk. Gonna have to go to bed with Bex age 7, I think. But they are still more chill than my folks, so it might not be so bad.

See ya next week. ~ Scarbie

Monday, July 26, 2004

Love is...

I have this saying that always makes Grumps laugh. And anyone who knows him, knows it's hard to make him laugh, but that once you do, his high pitch cackle is well worth the effort. Sista Sunshine and I, after years of perfecting the art, now know exactly what phrases will set him off.
After I got married, I came back to the family abode for a visit and professed that I now understood Love. Most people romanticize Love and that's why they are often let down by it. The truth of the matter comes down to one sentence my friends...

Love is cleaning the side of the toilet bowl that you never piss on.

Gets Grumps shrieking every time.

Last night, love was putting calamine lotion where the sun don't shine. Yikes!

I have not seen the Dog in a few days. Not properly anyway. Thursday night, he had a couple of blemishes on his face, which he said were mosquito bites from going discing on the Island. When I came to bed and he was wet with sweat. I got grossed out, handed him a cold wet towel for his forehead to cool him down, then went to sleep on the couch. I was too tired to put two and two together at this point. I just hoped he didn't have West Nile.

The weekend was fun. Pipes is getting married in a month and had the opportunity to take us out on her boss's yacht. It was sooo much fun! We rode to the Bluffs and back in style. I felt very P Diddy.

I met some nice people on King Street on the way to dinner that night -- if they are reading this -- welcome! By the time we finished dinner, it was past 11 PM and the Dogger had to be up for work at 7 am. Sat and Sun he worked on a short film, and when he came home last night he was complaining about his mosquito bites. He pulled off his shirt to reveal about a hundred hives on his back and stomach!

After a moment of disbelief, I remembered rubbing his back after our great pompathon Sat night. Then it hit me. "Dude, those aren't no mosquito bites. You have the chicken pox!"

I told him to call his mother right away to find out if he'd had them before, since he couldn't remember. She said she thought he'd had them. Anyone who has had the chicken pox knows, there is no wavering. If you've been through it, you know! He asked her if she was 100% sure and her response? "Yes, I am... Almost."

So I ran (read: wobbled) up the street to Shoppers (a.k.a. paradise) and bought Oatmeal bath, calamine lotion, Benadryl and People Fashion Extra (the Dog LOVES looking at those and rating the actresses outfits). I came home to find the Dog on the phone with a nurse from Tele-health Ontario (our taxes are going to it, why not use it?) and she was listing off all the things I had just bought for him (minus the People mag). Phew. Of course, in true Dog fashion, it's now too late for him to take the herpes drugs that would have made the outbreak not so severe.

Then my sister-in-law calls panicking about me being preggers and being exposed to the chicken pox. I tried to reassure her that it was OK. I am not at risk since I had the pox already (we did all the research and spoke to the Tele-health nurse), so I am immune and so is the baby. Still, the Dog is sleeping on the couch.

But I had a bad night's sleep as I kept waking up to check and see if he was feverish. I put a cold wet towel on his head just in case. Then I had a dream that all the guys I love at work were dying of the chicken pox and no one seemed to care but me. I was going to meetings and hanging out with their ghosts, who refused to leave the building until everyone cared that they had died. I woke up in tears.

The Dog seems to be doing better, but the second crop of them is popping up today he just said on the phone. I will go home a bit early to feed him and stuff. Arghhh... This is supposed to be my time to be needy!!

Sunday, July 25, 2004

Does my ass look big with this belly?

OK, until now I've been under the delusion that I will stay petite and cute and only have "a leetle pot" as that cute gal says in Pulp Fiction . Sadly, this is not the case. The morphing process into beach ball has begun. My ass is HUGE. I had to cave, after years of buying cute frilly dental floss underthings in size Small, I found myself in Costco with Mamacita yesterday buying comfy cotton size Large briefs (need that ass covered now!) in lovely pastel shades. yucko. Gee, this really bodes well on my future ass as I have 5 months of growing to do. No wonder women end up in those pleated, Walmart special "mom jeans"! *shudder*

But let me tell you, you need all the coverage you can get due to the abundance of a foreign matter that a friend of Queen Nomad's calls clitty litter . While that makes me laugh and cringe simultaneously, as all really good humour should, it does not make the "litter" sitch any more pleasant.

Thankfully, my necessity for awful underpants and panty liners is not affecting my sex life. The libido is back, and friends, let me tell you, the "O"s I'm having during pregnancy are... well they're un-f*cking-believable! I read somewhere that this is due to the increase in blood to your genitalia, beefing up your ooooh ohhhh bits so that they become more sensitive (remember Angelina Jolie snatch?). So not all of pregnancy is nasty and depressing. There are some perks.

First off, the missionary position is basically off the menu. Which means sex is automatically hotter, because you have to either get in some fun porno positions, or you have to get into really intimate lovey dovey ones. All good. Quickies are off the menu too, since general soreness "down there" requires some extra attention. So no more fast food, it's all slow cookin'!

The boobs are another perk. I can no longer change in peace. The Dog has taken to calling me Hotits (yes, just like that, all in one breath). Every time I take my top off I get an ego boost, because he will only talk talk about how hot my tits and body are. The girls are generally getting more attention, though they're not as big as I woulda hoped. Apparently the size doesn't affect your ability to breastfeed though. That's all in the nipples, of which I am fortunate enough to have fan-friggin-tastic ones. Those of you who have run into my nips on a night out can attest to this.

As I've been mentioning my blog to peeps, I'm finding more and more bloggers and readers out there! Bring it on. My latest bud who blogs has one called Sugar-Slit (dirty girl!) and promises to be a fun read. Check her out! I'll be adding a link to her too. Let me know if you prefer the layout of her blog site by leaving a comment below.

If you'd like me to link to your blog and give you props, just hit on comments below. If you ever want to post a comment, you don't have to sign up. Just click on Comments link and type away.

Remember, there are no need for secrets. We are all here to learn from one another's experience. I hope I am giving you readers a good laugh and some semi-useful mat-stats. It's never been a secret that my life is an open book, and I'm glad I have a way to share that book with you all now. Ask me anything.

Good vibes to everyone, love Scarbie

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Mother of all Re-Invention

So this blessed unborn child has had the fortune of being with me in the presence of TWO of my all-time idols this year. First Michael Moore, and last night Madge!

Blondie, Sista Sunshine, Papa T and me & Harri(et) sat about 5 rows back from the stage and 12 rows up. They were, by far, the BEST tickets I’ve EVER had for a live show of that size. Which was good, since we forked out major dough for them. special thanks to Papa T for hooking us up with the tix.

I managed to squeeze into my little black BCBG dress, dig out my Le Crapeau rosary/crucifix necklace from back in the day, and leave my hair curly and wild (was 33 with the Humidex yesterday, so really no choice there) to pull off a bit of a Like a Prayer homage.

What amazed me the most was how hearing a song of hers can just transport you to a specific place or moment in your life. I realized how much of an influence/affect Madonna has had on the woman I am today. I never thought I’d cry at a concert, but during “Like a Prayer” I lost it a bit. It reminded of watching that video, at the age of roughly 15, and questioning my religion for the first time. She was so strong then, she just took on the Pope, the media, anybody.

Think what you might about her, but there are just no role models for young girls like her anymore. She taught me to not settle for second best; that girls can be sexy and open about sex, while being smart, strong and powerful; that changing your look every few years is good for you, as long as you spend equal energy on your spiritual/inner self; that being young is a state of mind. Oh so much more…

The other cool/weird thing was actually seeing Madonna in the flesh. You don’t realize how much of an image she is until you see her. You forget she’s human and not some manufactured image like in that horrible movie S1m0ne with Al Pacino. But she is there, almost 46 and just givin’ ‘er on stage for 2 hours. And the boring Toronto audience actually had the nerve to sit down during some of the show. Blondie was actually asked to sit down by some rude fat ass cows. Grrr…

Anyway, highlights for other Madge fans:

“Burning Up” from first album. I was freakin’ transported back to 5th grade, having a major crush on Arman/Edward, and singing those lyrics thinking of him. She played it with an electric guitar, White Stripes stylee. I partied the hardest during this song.

“Nothing Fails” from American Life. One of her prettiest ballads, written for Guy Ritchie. She sang it in an awesome outfit, while playing guitar on our side of the stage. She also mixed in a verse from a song she wrote about her son. So baby got some rubs during this song. I think Blondie may have been singing directly into the belly at that part.

“Don’t Tell Me” from Music. No cowboy outfits, but did THE dance from the video. And song was mixed with “Bittersweet Symphony”.

“Like a Prayer”—reduced to tears, ‘nuff said.

“Papa Don’t Preach”—was so fun singing along to a song about getting knocked up in a tight black dress with full preggy belly.

“Crazy 4 U”—dedicated to the fans after some talking, including a “Please, don’t call me Esther” speech. Blondie bawling her eyes out over an 8th grade crush and me remembering how much I wanted to slow dance to that song was pure gold. Plus the four of us cheesily holding onto each other and rocking back and forth was concert magic.

Anyway, so awesome! Baby had a lot of fun too. Some great characters in the audience too, including a girl Blondie dubbed “Paris Ontario Hilton”—she’s a bloody comic genius!

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Harry or Harriet?

So the other day when I peed myself, I called Mamacita right way. It makes her feel important when I ask her advice on things, even though she is somewhat crazy and her advice is based on old world knowledge and middle-eastern voodoo.

That being said, she is often right about the strangest things. When I mentioned to her that I was still throwing up and nauseous after certain meals, she had the crazy Mamacita answer for me.

In Armenian: “Bebekit maz oonih, ann eh” “It’s because your baby has hair.”

Say what? Where does she get this stuff?

“Vell, I know because vit you I vas seek for nine months. And you came out vit lots of hair. Your seester? No problems. And she vas bald.”



No Ma, I don’t see. What about frikkin facts here? Like say…SCIENCE?

But she’s been right about crazier stuff. Though I do recall one particularly bizarre conversation years ago, where she told me not to let anyone who was menstruating come over while pregnant.

“Deess von time, someone came to see me and she had her peh-riod and, asdvadz vigah (I swear to God), something ter-reeble came over me. Assang kilooghess issgisav, meenchev vodkeriss eechav (It started at my head and just came down to my feet). Dey say eet’s not good. Dey [menstruating women] can give you dee evil eye!”

Sure Ma, they howl at the full moon too. Anyhoo, when I mentioned the hair bizness to Thor over the phone, he laughed and reminded me that the Dog has hair growing ON his ears, not just IN his ears like normal people.

“Yeah, that’s right…” I trailed off at the thought, “We’re probably going to give birth to a sasquatch.”

Saturday, July 17, 2004

Danger: Flood Alert

By now, most of you in Canada, and perhaps some of you international buddies, should have heard about the major flooding we've been having. Our friends Thor and Shrooms in Edmonton had their basement apartment majorly flooded. The West Edmonton Mall (largest mall in the world) flooded. Then it moved on to Peterborough, Ontario and now Quebec.

But what you didn't hear on the news was the flooding that took my place chez moi the other night.

A few days ago, the Dog and I were watching Jeopardy, catching up on the mega success of Ken Jennings (all time greatest Jeop player) when a Poise Pads add came on. I realized the whole commercial featured women, so I asked the Dog if guys ever wet themselves. He was like, "Sure, maybe a drop or two, but who is pissing themselves so much that they need these gay ass pads?" Earlier that day, Queen Nomad had told me that her 6-months preggy friend wanted me to know that pretty soon, if I sneeze too hard I'll piss my pants. So I got defensive with the Dog and told him that maybe even I would need those pads soon enough. He still wouldn't believe me.

The next night I went to my yoga class with Blondie. There was a new mom who just started with us. She said she needed to get out of the house because now that her baby was 6 months, she had to play with him all the time and was "baby all day". She didn't make that aspect sound fun. She also said she gained 60 pounds (please dear lord don't let that be me) and that she did yoga up to 34 weeks and that her labour was only 6 hours as a result. OK, I'm buying into that man, let's stretch these hips! Well, I guess some of the poses I did stirred up my insides, because when I got home I yarfed. Except that you need a fairly empty stomach for yoga, so I was basically violently dry heaving.

Problem was, each time I gagged, something came out the other end of me. Something wet and uncontrollable. After the gagging stopped, I took off my undies and pants to find them soaking wet. I sat on the bathroom floor crying and panicking and then finally got up to call Mamacita.

"Ma, blah blah just happened. Did my puking tear open the placenta? Should I be worried?"

"No, you just peed your pants."

Motherhood is nothing if not a lesson in humility I tells ya. When the Dog came home, I looked at him, humiliated by the lack of control over my body and muttered, "I pissed my pants." I don't think he'll be dissing those Poise Pads again.

Friday, July 16, 2004

Changes in the land Down Under

Well, what a day I had yesterday. I had my second doctors appointment. And since I haven't been reading the books, I assumed that they would check my "downstairs", which has gotten pretty scary since my wax lady is gone to Romania for a month!

I decided to take out the weed whacker, so that the doc could get a clear view. Then I remembered reading about a change in colour that is supposed to happen, so I decided to bust out the mirror and get a look. Well friends, first let me inform you that you get about 2 pounds increase in your blood supply during pregnancy. And there's a lot of blood flowing down to your nether regions, and the effect? A whole lot of puffy, and I don't mean P.Diddy. Well I was shocked. For a moment I thought I was looking at Angelina Jolie!

I got over it, got dressed went to work, wrote crappy content for a Hong Kong Tourism microsite and then ducked out for the doctor. On the way there, a black girl walking behind me was singing Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden, majorly off-key at the top of her lungs. Funny.

The Dog and I met and headed for the waiting room. A long line of fussy mamas gathered around the window. They all seemed to know the drill. Me on the other hand, had only been there once before. The drill is this: Receptionist gets back from lunch, preggitas line up, hand their hospital cards over and are handed a slip and a pee cup. They all rush to the bathroom and then down to the lab, where a technician dips something in the pee and then hands you another slip. Then you hustle back up and go to the examination rooms to wait for a doctor or intern to see you.

I got the resident/intern yesterday, and he clearly wasn't into doing obstetrics. He was so nervous! And the Dog and I are pretty easy going, but he just wouldn't chill out. So he measure my belly from buttn to pubic bone (16 cm) and then told us we would try to hear the heartbeat. After prodding and poking me to figure out where to put the doppler (I did NOT care for this prodding and poking), he put the jelly on my belly and then this weird microphone looking device and started tuning in.

"Oh there it is, did you hear that?" he asked, pulling away. "Uh no actually I didn't," I sputtered. So he found it again, but after he left, Jan and I both admitted that we couldn't really make it out. He was also trying to tell us the results of our pre-screening for down syndrome from our last visit. "1 in 50,000."

"Wow, those are pretty good odds," I said. The Dog nodded in agreement.
"Enh, not bad," the intern's non-plussed reply.

Then Doctor Kung came in. She rocks! "Your blood type is A+, which is the same as mine, so that makes it the best.... Your tests all came back negative, and you have a one in 50K chance of having a baby with down syndrome, so that's great news." Love her. We did a blood test for spina bifida too, which is the neural tube defect that folic acid is supposed to prevent.

Lying in the chair, I was thinking about this tradition my yaya had in Turkey. Every New Year's Eve at midnight, she would run around the flat, opening all the windows. Then she would take a pomegranite and throw it out the front door so that it would explode into hundreds of seeds on the street. You do this for bereket : prosperity and auspiciousness that the pomegranite seeds represent. If I have this baby on NYE, he or she will be like the pomegranate, bringing good things to our families. That thought makes me cry.

Next appointment, August 12 we will have another ultrasound photo to send around to you guys and by then it should look like a real baby and not an alien with a big nose.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Nipplegate? That's so last year

I have stopped reading "the books". I feel good and intend to keep eating well and sticking to my exercise. I also plan to stop worrying. That part is a bit harder than the rest, but avoiding "the books" is a good start. Plus the Dog is really tired of me saying, "The book says (insert useless fact here)."

We are in a lovey dovey honeymoon phase. I am looking damn good and feeling drastically better, and this seems to be affecting other aspects of our daily life. We are giggly and touchy feely a lot more than usual. The Dog's happiness about becoming a father is spreading to other areas in his life. He seems to have more pep in his step. He comes home whistling again. The transformation also seems to be taking shape physically. A haircut, a bit of sunshine, some exercise and he is glowing more than me. I would go as far as to say he's hot, and it's not the July heat!

Then on Saturday, he planned (with Sista Sunshine)a fabulous BBQ on the Toronto Island for me. And the miraculous part was that it went off without a hitch! The only thing forgotten was a spatula to flip the burgs with. Although, I'm sure if you ask Sista Sunshine, she'll tell it a different way, since she was stressing out majorly. Still, thanks to the both of them for putting such a beautiful day together. And thanks to everyone who made the hike out to the party. It will be an annual event now, so keep the same weekend open next year. (Hint* maybe a good time for you out-of-towners to visit)

The belly is developing nicely. Elastic waistbands are my new best friend. Went to look at mat clothes with Blondie yesterday and they are nerdo city. I guess there is no way to make a beach ball look good. Each day, my thinking varies from "Wow I am the hottest preggo chick EVER!" to "Gee, I don't think I'm preggy looking enough yet. People must think I'm fat." Thankfully, Blondie is there to assure me this isn't the case, that I definitely look preggy, and this was confirmed by my second offer for a seat on public transit yesterday on the way back from the mall. I didn't think people would be so polite.

I have gained maybe a pound. Will find out Thursday if this is OK with the docs. It's definitely OK by me. I have a hard time getting dressed in the mornings as nothing fits. Today while looking in the mirror and having a "Wow I am a hot mama" moment, I remembered that episode of Sex and the City, where the now-pregnant former party girl invites our girls to a shower "off the island". I just remember the preggy bitch going to Samantha's "I'm not having a baby" shower and trying to reclaim her former party girl status by getting on a chair and screaming "Who wants to see my tits?"

Oh man, that cracks me up every time. Especially since it hits so close to home. I was just saying to the Dog this morn that Janet Jackson is miscredited as inventing that trick. Anyone who's known me long enough (or ever been to a party with me) has probably seen a nip at one time. The nip is my move, Miss Jackson, if you're nasty. Need proof? This was taken last summer: Nip shot, click on the album July 2003 and then go to the last photo. Wait till I start breastfeeding...

Thursday, July 08, 2004

36B and rising

Well, officially 30 as of yesterday at 4:10 PM. Thanks to everyone who sent their kind wishes via phone or email. It means a lot to know that people are thinking of you.

A cuppy updates on the pregnancy front. Boobs are definitely bigger. I have spent my whole life in a 34A and have finally graduated to 36B! And even those are feeling rather snuggish. Hooray! For those of you who don't know of my battle with the boob, here's a link to an article I wrote in my early writing days on the subject: Mountains out of Molehills

The Dog has become obsessed with these new toys. I told him that they are only going to be his alone for 25 more weeks and then he will have to learn to share. The good thing is that my libido is back! I actually put on lingerie last night in an attempt to signal to the Dog that it was OK to start sniffin' my butt again. I totally get the sexy preggy thing now. I feel great. I haven't put on a pound yet (I'll find out next week if that's cool or not) and yet my whole body is changing. And it's kinda hot to be this life-giving goddess with massive mammaries (OK exagerrating, but let me have this OK?).

The belly itself is actually a much hipper accessory than a Louis Vuitton bag (no fakes here baby). It is the new status symbol. Very Atwoodian, but fertility is the new Beemer. The Dog took me out to Brasserie Aix on College last night, and my tummy got lots of stares from the emaciated martini-sippers that dotted the patios, pretending to eat. Then I was a really bad girl and indulged in a glass of Moet Chandon. Hey, you're only 30 once! Damn, it went down good too. 3 months of no drinking, so my tolerance is down. That might explain the nightie...

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Adios Twenties! I'll miss you!

Ah yes, today is the last day of my 20s. Wow that's weird. I have spent the last 6 days reflecting on the past 10 years and I can truly say that I am satisfied. I had a rockin' time in my 20s. I did so much!

I travelled—Mexico: Cancun, Acapulco; Canada: Ottawa, Montreal, Quebec City, Calgary, the Rockies, Edmonton, and a multitude of small Ontario towns; Cuba: Varadero, Havana; USA: NYC, Arizona (Sedona, Flagstaff, Grand Canyon); UK: London, Oxford, Warwick, Stratford-upon-Avon; Norway: Oslo, Bergen, Hardanger; Sweden: Stockholm; Ireland: Dublin; France: Paris. And that is just in my 20s! Not super awesome perhaps, but more fortunate than so many.

I partied—oh how I partied. Oh Jose Cuervo, what a great boyfriend you were...

I narrowed down who my true friends are, what my beliefs are, and what I don't want in my life.

I found out that for me, writing is like breathing: must do it to live.

I learned that distance and time apart cannot separate the closeness of those who work hard at maintaining treasured friendships.

I met, fell in love with and married the love of my life. Now I begin this new chapter of my life, carrying his child, ready to take on my new role: from Party Girl to Parent. So fucking cool!

Off tomorrow to galavant around town with the Dog, who has got something "planned". Will give the details Thursday.

Monday, July 05, 2004

Waaa, Waaa, Waaa

OK enough of this crying and sad talk. Back to the funnies. Or at least the happy stuff. (Mind you I did find myself teary when Maria Sharapova won her first Wimbledon Friday at the age of 17. Fucking hormones!)

At the last minute on Wednesday, I decided to sacrifice a precious vacation day and take Friday off. Having four days off from the office has been amazing for me.

I spent the first day (Canada Day) doing the Spring Cleaning I missed during my first trimester. I don't think the Dog was too pleased about that. So the next day we headed to the Toronto Island to scope out the ideal place to host my 30th birthday picnic party next Saturday. (I turn 30 on Wednesday for those of you faithful readers who didn't know or forgot.)

Man the Island is fun! I can't believe we don't use it more. They have all kinds of beaches (including the "clothing optional" beach where I was surprised to find more people didn't opt for clothes), bike trails, picnic areas. It was like being a kid again. Then we had a mini picnic in the sand and I got to sun my big belly and give Baby some vitamin D (The Dog calls in vitamin S). And in true Dog and Cat fashion, I was perfectly content stretched out in the sun, while the Dog longingly turned his sad puppy eyes to some boys playing Frisbee in the lake.

Saturday, my Mammina and Sista Sunshine picked me up and we headed to the Distillery District for some lunch, sunshine and market shopping. Mammina asked me if I was happy, sitting out on the patio of Pure Spirits (I highly recommend it)with cobblestone under my feet, blue sky and sun over my head, 150 year old buildings around me, and not a car in sight. I sighed and said I was. She said to Sista Sunshine, "I think she could be happier. Should we make her happy?" And with that a blue Tiffany bag appeared on the table and I had a true Holly Golightly moment. Out of the tiny box that I've always drooled over, a lovely shiny silver necklace appeared with a starfish charm on it. Wow. I am not one for excessive bling, but some elegant touches are always appreciated.

So the path to 30 is looking good. Thanks to Mammina, SS and Queen Nomad for the gift, which I will cherish always. The starfish has also given me an idea for Baby's room. Perhaps a beach theme with sandy yellows and Tiffany blue (ooh, subconsciously, this blog is Tiffany blue!), framed starfish and pebbles and the like. Just under 6 months to go!

I just read on (THE online destination for expectant parents!) that "Head to bottom, your baby's 3 1/2 inches long — about the length of a lemon — and weighs about 1 1/2 ounces. Her body's growing faster than her head, which now sits upon a more well-defined neck. By the end of this week, her arms will have lengthened and will be in proportion to the rest of her body. (Her legs still have some growing to do, though.)" Exciting stuff! I definitely feel like there is something growing in me now. Will explain more tomorrow.

Sunday, July 04, 2004

Nightmare on Duborg Drive

I am being very bad at keeping up these posts. My good pal PHDiva, who got me into all this blogging in the first place, has been writing an entry each day lately. Now that is dedication to her fans. I need to get into a better routine of blogging. Perhaps I will wake up earlier each morn and get some thoughts out...?

Stephen King writes (in his On Writing: A Memoir — a gift from my wonderful friend Ragdoll, and a MUST READ for any aspiring writer) that in order to be a writer, you must write every day. I used to write every day, when I lived at my parents' house, where I sit now, bored with the option of watching TV and not talking. That's how I got writing in the first place. It was an escape for me from the doldrums of suburbia. But my parents are a whole other blog.

It's early, but I'm up. And I find myself here writing. It's raining outside, and no one else is up except my father, whom I suspect is also writing somewhere in the house right now. I wonder if he's plagued by bad dreams like me.

They say that when you are pregnant, you have the weirdest dreams, and it's true. The reason for this in the first trimester is that with everything fighting for space "down there" you have to pee frequently (I believe I've addressed this before). So since you're getting up a few times a night, you are always interrupting a dream in deep REM sleep and therefore can remember it instantly.

Now that my uterus has popped forward, making more room "down there", and I am sleeping through the night (hooray!), I am still plagued by these crazy dreams because of this forcing myself to sleep on my left side biz. Oh yeah, if you don't sleep on your left, you can potentially cut of circulation to the organs and vessels that carry oxygen and nutrients to the baby! As a hard-core right-sider (only in sleep mind you -- heh), this has proven to be very difficult. So I toss and turn all night, wake up in horror to find myself on my back, and then freak out because I fear I am suffocating the baby. Am I neurotic enough for you guys?

So last night I dreamt that I was watching a horror movie, and then eventually, I found myself IN said horror movie. The movie was a 28 Days Later style, end-of-the-world/plague movie, about a giant spider who spins his web on people and then those infected people grow more spiders inside of them until they erupt into a mess of spiders. But you didn't know who was infected and would attack you because everyone looked normal until they exploded into spiders. It was freakin' scary! I must run in by Thor in Edmonton and see if the fear stands up in the light of day. Might make a good comic or actual horror movie.

Now, this may have happened because I was sharing a bed with my sister, which in itself is scary enough. But I find it interesting that the worst nightmare I've had in years (I was tormented by them for many years as a child and a teen) happened right here under my parental roof. Hmmmm...

Anyway, if EVERYONE is turning into a spider, the truly fascinating human question is: why fight it? This is one to think about. Would you just join 'em, or would you try to beat 'em and fight for the things about being human you love? Which brings us to the next question: what is it exactly we love about human life that is so worth fighting for? I'm just throwing things out there. Click on the word "comments" below if you feel you have an answer and post your comment.