I have a confession: I caused the earthquake. Actually, I think my unborn child did.
In case the earthquake has rattled your brains to the point of memory loss, there is a hurricane heading toward the East Coast. As a Southern Californian, I haven’t gotten all caught up in all the hurricane hoopla. I mean, it’s just rain, right? Apparently not. Damon came home in the middle of the day and moved all our important stuff off the first floor of our condo, so I guess it’s kind of a big deal. Irene is not even supposed to hit till the weekend, and we’re already relocating our furniture and buying non-perishables?
So at about 1:50 today I left my condo to walk to my 2:00 pilates session. As I stepped outside, I started thinking how East Coasters totally take their natural disasters for granted. They have days to plan and prepare; yet they act as if the sky is falling. What’s a little house flooding and electricity loss when you know it’s coming? In California, we have earthquakes. No warning for those babies, thankyouverymuch.
I was berating East Coasters in my head for their inferior natural disasters when I walked into my pilates studio. “DID YOU FEEL THAT?” my instructor shrieked. “WE JUST HAD AN EARTHQUAKE”. While reflecting on hypothetical earthquakes, I completely missed a real one.
“I was literally just thinking about how we have to deal with earthquakes here!” I shrieked back. Now that timing is just weird. My instructor, Mary, glanced down at my stomach. “What are you growing in there?”
Suddenly it dawned on me: I am breeding a demon child with supernatural powers strong enough to cause earthquakes and national panic! There is no other explanation for the freak timing. I’ll make sure to have a discussion with her about this when she’s born.
In the meantime, I apologize on her behalf. It won’t happen again.
As I mentioned in my last post, yesterday was my one-year wedding anniversary. One year down, and we’ve already survived a true test to our marriage: sharing a bathroom. Not just any bathroom. An inconceivably small bathroom with no storage for my products and a door that didn’t shut all the way. I place a lot of value on my privacy, and being forced to use a bathroom with a door that didn’t shut properly was mildly traumatizing. But we have since moved on to bigger and better – and separate – bathrooms, and with separate bathrooms comes marital bliss. So how did we celebrate this momentous occasion? Well, Damon had to work a bit on Sunday, so he determined we weren’t going to just celebrate our anniversary day, but our anniversary weekend. Hey – go big or go home. Therefore on Saturday we spent eight hours in a childbirth and delivery class where the instructor told us that labor is going to hurt a lot, and then showed us incredibly graphic videos of childbirth. It was so romantic. That evening we caught a Norfolk Tides game. Damon loves baseball, and while I typically enjoying catching a game, this past season I have not been so inclined to sit in oppressive heat for hours on end, not drinking beer. I have been much more inclined to sit on my couch in my air-conditioned living room eating ice cream. But I had the feeling Damon had gotten me a better anniversary gift than I him, so I figured I better agree to the game just in case. Sunday morning, our actual anniversary, I woke up to a homemade breakfast in bed! Just kidding. I actually woke up to a text that read something along the lines of, “I got called into work this morning, but will be back in time for brunch”. Because I am such an understanding and loving wife, I didn’t let this irk me. (Plus, I respect my husband’s work for this country and have accepted his schedule won’t always be convenient. At least I accept it... Read More