Back From The Big Easy

Rick and I just returned from a 5-day jaunt to New Orleans. NOLA is a very strange place to vacation while pregnant. No booze (and there was an absinthe bar, or faux absinthe bar, I would have loved to of tried the stuff). No smoking, or even hanging out in the incredibly smoky bars because it makes me feel like I will puke. And I get comatose tired around midnight, so I couldn't even waddle down Bourbon street at 3AM and watch the scene. Despite these hindrances I really enjoyed the trip.

Rick got to partake in NOLA craziness as we also traveled with our official new orleans tour guide, aka Steve A., who grew-up in the city and stayed through college. Traveling with an x-cook to his glutonous home town is a treat I wish for everyone. On Sunday I actually ate dessert with EVERY meal. Really! This helped me gain the pregnancy pounds, but unless I have 1 fetus in my belly, and another in each side of my bum, well, I don't think the continual slurping of butter and cream was exactly the prego diet my ob has in mind.

Not that the entire trip was checking off of the seven deadly. Steve was on a scouting trip for a group of 75 volunteers who are heading to NOLA in a month to rebuild some homes. For 5ish hours on Friday we were given a tour by Pastor Bruce of the hurricane damage in the various wards and parishes, and got to meet the families whose homes Steve will be working on. Rick will be getting the photos from the whole trip online shortly, and I think the photos will speak louder than any words.

Thank Goodness the Todd Side Knows Etiquette

Every once in a while Rick throws out an etiquette fact that I am frankly shocked exists at all, and even more shocked that my husband knows. As his hick of a Midwestern wife I can tell you I am proud when I write a thank-you note within a month of a gift.

Today I learned that hand delivered letters are not sealed. That is correct, if you hand deliver a note you only fold the envelope flap into the letter, you do not lick and stick. Who wouldda thunk?

Another etiquette fact: A waiter should never show you the back of his hand. If he does, he should apologize.

Anyone know where either of these throw-backs come from? Anyone wanna guess which side of the family will teach kiwi-McTodd which fork to use when?

Best Valentines Day Ever

For a couple years Rick and I have fantasized about having the perfect mattress. A mattress that had the magically ability to isolate each of our nighttime movements from the other. I proposed two twin beds a couple years ago (and bring it up every once in a while after a particularly poor night's sleep). Rick did not find this amusing, although I still maintain that 1950's couples had it right back when the amazing wonder mattress had not yet been developed by NASA's top scientists.

Yes, that is correct, after a year of saving money and meeting some professional goals we have finally purchased a TemperPedic mattress. Serendipitously it arrived yesterday on Valentines Day. I cannot tell you how much I love this mattress. It is perfect in every way (except the fresh from the factory smell that is supposed to dissipate in a day or so).

Reasons Why I Love This Mattress:
* In order for the mattress to function at its best the room must be at least 65 degrees. No more thermostat at 55 during the night.
* I cannot feel Rick moving and kicking his feet while he dreams of skateboarding or snowboarding or mountain biking - and he always does.
* He cannot feel me get out of bed 3 times a night to pee (being pregnant rocks!!)
* I cannot feel our dog jump on the bed, walk in a circle three times, and flop down. This she does almost every other night at MY end of the bed.

On another note, my latest symptom of pregnancy:
Two days in a row I have made my lunch (a veggie burger and salad), and left the natural gas stove burner on the entire day until Rick came home and asked "Did you leave this on all day?". Really, two days in a row. And the worst part - my desk is at our eat-in-kitchen table, not 6 feet from the burner.

Finally Done With First Trimester...

As you can guess from the title, I am pregnant, and very excited. I haven't decided if I like the "Rick and I are pregnant" team approach to the announcement, or if I will stick to the more biologically possible "I am pregnant." Either way, both of us are thrilled. We have been able to see the little blob twice as I have needed a follow-up ultrasound. I wish I could see our little fetus every week because it is truly amazing. During the last ultrasound (10.5 weeks) the little strawberry (nick-name based on approximate size) waved its flippers at us. I think we woke it up.

Due date is August 23rd. Perfect timing as I would love to be 8 and 9 months pregnant during the hottest time of the year in Virginia.

We will find out gender (I want to know, Rick doesn't, but as I am pregnant we are going to find out). Names have been a slight problem. Rick and I tend to feel strongly opposed to each others suggestions. Like, how in the world does he want a son named Xander (fabulous Buffy reference aside), or Keifer (love Mr. Sutherland, but it sounds like an unfortunate and embarrassing sound). The only male name we can agree on is Jack.

Girl names are better. We are fond of Nora, Margot, and Allene (Rick's grandmother's name).

Suggestions are welcome...

O, so my latest pregnancy symptom is generally common, yet personally surprising: vivid dreams. This week my dream theme has been that I am pregnant and yet drinking pints of whiskey, smoking tobacco cigarettes and "left-handed cigarettes" (as my old EMT partner Felton called them). I even spend time in the dream rationalizing that: "it's okay, its lungs aren't even developing yet." Last night I dreamed an old co-worker and I were smoking joints in my grandmother's guest bedroom.

Down The What?

Just learned the correct version of a phrase I have said incorrectly for years. I was on a conference call with clients when a woman asked whether the correct phrase was "down the pipe" or "down the pike." I answered that I was sure it was "down the pipe", another co-workers answered "down the pike." Hmm, so we spent a minute googling and sure enough it is "down the pike." Strange. I then asked, "What does that refer to anyway, a channel carrying blood down the shaft from the point of the pike?" (At this point I think I completely weirded out my client). But of course that isn't it. It refers to "pike" as in a large road. Duh. Turnpike.