I have many random thoughts going through my mind. I think that this might be my Self Portrait Tuesday of sorts: a portrait by way of my regular feature, Randomata.
First, a book recommendation:
If you have not read a book named Blink then you definitely need to.
It’s by Malcolm Gladwell, whose New Yorker column “The Tipping Point” some of you may read. And it’s amazing.
You know how sometimes you get a gut feeling about someone or something and you just cannot shake it? That whole “first impression” kind of thing. That is what this book is about.
Okay. I’ve done something good for your mind. That is my good deed of the day.
Last night, the Monsieur and I got to witness some Meowzilla hiccups. At a day shy of 33 weeks, the decreasing amount of space is really starting to show its effects on the Meowster and on yours truly. For one, its movements are much more coordinated and deadly: I’ve already been driven to tears on more than one occasion by the pressure of a little head, or a well-aimed kick to the bladder. Most of the time these movements are fun– except when they go on for 20 minutes at a time, when they start to get a little annoying. But there is always the time –usually brilliantly timed right before I fall asleep– when the baby just NEEDS. TO. ADJUST.
And adjust it DOES, balancing itself precariously on my internal organs. The result? Neighbors must be convinced the pregnant lady with the minor exhibitionist penchant (is it MY fault that the windows have to be open and I just happen to favor walking around in my underwear to not die of heat sroke?) transforms into some sort of evil banshee from hell around 9 pm every fifth day. Dear neighbors: I completely apologize. However, you must admit that more than makes up for all of your penchants to pack cars for fishing trips at 11:30 pm; fixing brakes in crappy cars at 10:20 pm; having a skateboarding party at 1:15 am; holding a volleyball tournament with ten of your closest tween friends at 10:45 pm on a Sunday night; or perhaps loading a truckful of monkey wrenches at 3:10 am. I think it’s all about the community experience, personally. I enrich your lives with my tortured yelping; you enrich my life by allowing me to explore new avenues in cursing-word-pairing at the aforementioned times of night. It’s a win-win.
So in sum:
Meowie hiccups are cute.
Meowzilla hiccups that go on for 45 minutes while arms and legs flail dangerously like a little ninja’s = OUCH.
Meowie little kicks are adorable.
Meowzilla kicks that seem to be hellbent on dislodging my diaphragm when I’ve just had dinner, especially = OUCH.
Meowie flutters that remind me I have a little baby inside me are precious.
Meowzilla training to possibly be able to try out for Rocky X, leading me to believe that I have a parasite who is the rightful heir to Oscar de la Hoya in my poor battered abdominal cavitly = OUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
More later. Perhaps it will be a lovely Meme or a quiz. Hehe.