Hello, my sisters

This post is for my sisters (and a little for my mom), who are really the only people who will get it.

I have a candy apple. Do YOU have a candy apple? I have a candy apple. MY candy apple is RED. . . .

(Look, John has a caramel apple. Caramel apples are not as good as candy apples.)

True wisdom

It's not often you find wise words in a bathroom, but it happened to me tonight. I was at dinner with my friends Nancy and Heather from law school, and as is now my custom, went to the bathroom before leaving. (Generally, even if I think I don't have to go, I make it a practice to go to the bathroom before I leave anywhere these days). Across from the toilet, a cheap poster titled "Sarcastic Zen Sayings" was plastered to the wall. One saying read as follows, "Never make yourself irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted."

Those who have heard me vent about John's job situation will understand why this is particularly apropos at this time in our lives. Luckily things have picked up on that front now that he has become the one responsible for screening applicant resumes, doing the initial phone interviews, and scheduling the in-office interviews. Keep your fingers crossed for us . . .

Oh, and just because I posted about it only the other day, our guy caulked the baseboards and added the shoe moulding in the living room today. I teared up when I saw it, it looked so good. It almost makes me wish we had decided to do crown moulding too, but I mustn't let my thoughts wander in that direction.

Real pictures to come when painted and the rest of the apartment no longer looks like a war zone.

It's the little things

This morning, I got up and rushed through my shower, then waited with bated breath. The big day had arrived. Finally, after no less than 4 months of bids and estimates and who knows what else, finally the work on replacing our baseboards would begin.

This might not seem that exciting on first thought, but just trust me, it really is. When we were renting, I never gave a second thought to things like baseboards, interior doors, quality of grout, but now, every single imperfection really bothers me, and that's unfortunate, since our apartment has many. I'm counting down the days until I can replace the closet and interior doors (the bids were so high that we are going to have to do it ourselves, if by "ourselves" you mean with the help of a friend who has tools and knowledge and was too kind to refuse my desperate pleas for help), refinish the doorframes, hang the new blinds, and eventually, get the kitchen redone. In the meantime, the pre-baby project list is pretty short - replace the baseboards and get the wall put in. That's it, but after the effort I've put in to get us to this point, it seems like a lot.

We prepared the apartment very carefully, inviting friends for dinner last night with the ulterior motive of soliciting their help in moving the large items of furniture, then shifting a few remaining things ourselves. In fact, we created a pretty clear path around every wall in the living/baby/dining/hall area (the apartment minus the bedroom). I was impressed with us, although I'm not really looking forward to clearing everything away from the walls in the bedroom in a couple of days.

I won't go into the details of how it took 45 minutes to get from the service entrance into our apartment, complete with alarms going off, etc, because that's all really beside the point. When I walked into the door from work tonight, I had two thoughts. First, I really think the apartment is going to look a lot better with the baseboards redone, and I have good taste in trim (that last part probably requires a little imagination still at this point). Second, I am so, so, so glad we are not doing this ourselves.

Just seeing the contractor's work area set up with various tools and glues and such led me to imagine the nervous breakdown I would have undergone had I tried to get this done myself before early October. And doing it with a baby around? Forget it. Definitely beyond my capacity. Looking at the beginnings of the new baseboards also highlighted again for me how uneven our walls are. Skim coating is beyond our budget, so the uneven walls, complete with all their many imperfections, are here to stay; I am 100% certain that the contractor will do a much, much better job of making the straight baseboards look nice against the crooked walls than I could have done. We got some scoffs and chuckles when our handier friends, especially those not in the city, heard that we didn't feel capable of slapping up a few measly baseboards ourselves, but I must say, I think they overestimated our skills. From where I stood tonight, every penny we're paying this guy (which seemed a little high before, frankly), looked like money well spent, and I guess in the end that's really all that matters.

John proudly displaying the perimeter we created

Tools and stuff

What was there before (and this is a relatively good section of it, unlike other sections that were chipped/cracked/etc)

The first stages of something better (minus caulking, shoe moulding, painting, etc)

Tropical Heat Wave

As expected, the third trimester of pregnancy in the hottest part of a New York City summer leaves a little something to be desired. Really, other than the shingles and all, I think I've been incredibly lucky so far with the whole pregnancy thing. I'm big, but not big enough that my back hurts from carrying the weight in the front. My feet generally haven't swollen all that badly, etc. I know all these things remain in my future over the next couple of months, but so far, lucky. However, pregnancy definitely has interfered with my ability to regulate body temperature. I am warmer than normal pretty much all the time.

During the day, this isn't too bad. I sit in my nice air conditioned office, where the temperature is regulated by someone other than me, and I don't need a sweater as I have in past years. Sometimes I'm even a little warm, but never really uncomfortably so. At night, however, it's a bit of a dilemma. I'm a restless sleeper anyway, and heat makes it worse. John swears that it is cold in our bedroom at night. He wraps himself tightly in the sheet and quilt. A couple of nights, he wore a hooded sweatshirt and socks because he said he was getting sick from having the fan blow on him at night. Frankly, I think he's making it all up. The decades-old a/c in our bedroom, while it does generally blow cold air, doesn't blow that much of it (thus the need for the fan blowing directly on me in addition to the a/c on high) and doesn't cool the room as well as the window units we were using in the old apartment.

Last night, it was particularly bad. Several days of temps in the low 90s have left the city a mucky mess. I took a freezing shower before bed and was still boiling all night. John had the blanket on as usual. This morning, when I woke up, I checked the a/c, and it wasn't even blowing cold. Just room temperature air. I complained about this off and on while John was getting dressed. He insisted I was making it up, that the bedroom was a comfortable temperature and the pregnancy hormones were making me crazy. Finally, I took his hand and walked him over to the pitiful stream of not-even-cold air coming out of the unit. Even he had to agree that it was not blowing cold. We called the doorman, and sure enough, the a/c was out in our building last night (and still is, as I sit here working sporadically from home while washing a load of whites because I realized I had nothing to wear to work this morning). I'm sure it was well over 80 degrees in the bedroom. And yet, John was still sleeping with a blanket, wrapped tightly around him no less, insisting that last night was no hotter than normal and that we should get an indoor thermometer so he could prove it was a comfortable temperature. So, who's the crazy one now?

Hmmmm

I've decided I don't really like the whole "title" feature. I mean, what if I just have a bunch of random things to say but no real theme? Trying to decide on a title that encapsulates the post doesn't always work for me.

The month of July has been busy but fun. We were in Canada at the beginning of July to visit John's parents, brother, and nephew (can't remember if I mentioned that before). Then, a couple of weeks later, I went to Utah to hang out with some friends (and my little sis) for the weekend.

Funny story: I was standing in the living room of my sister's apartment in Provo. It's on the second floor, and they have a very small balcony with sliding glass doors that open out on to the balcony, which as it turns out, is a good place to sit if you want to watch traffic headed to and from the pool. So, I'm standing in the living room, pretty much right in front of these doors, looking at some knick knacks above the TV when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a group of girls walking below on their way back from the pool. They walked by, and as they did, all four or five of them turned their heads, stopped, and did a huge double take at seeing my profile. Guess they don't get many pregnant girls hanging around the complex. I seriously started laughing; they were so obvious. Later, I told my sister that I was doing my very best to spread rumors about her apartment while there - creating a phantom pregnant roommate and all. I made an appearance at church the next day, too, just to shake things up, you know. Let me tell you, being in a singles ward again after three years, especially a BYU singles ward, was very strange. I think I'll stick with my own ward.

The day after I got back from Utah (well, really the day I got back, since I didn't make it home until about 2 a.m.) was our third anniversary. That flight back was the least crowded nonstop I've been on in years when traveling between NYC and SLC. Guess there aren't many people LEAVING Utah the night before Pioneer Day, huh? (Yes, yes, we got married in Nauvoo on Pioneer Day, and yes, our flowers ended up, by chance, being RED roses, WHITE calla lillies, and BLUE hydrangea; luckily, we got a freak cool day in the middle of the normal Nauvoo July heat that year, and those flowers really were lovely together, trust me.)

To celebrate went to dinner at 21 Club, which was very yummy, especially the halibut, the lobster, and the lamb. I highly recommend their tasting menu (sans wine, of course). Every year, I think that next year we'll both take off work and spend the whole day together. So far, it hasn't happened yet, but there's always next year, right? One of these days we could perhaps actually leave the heat and humidity behind for a relaxing vacation somewhere less stifling than the city at the end of July. Maybe if I start planning now . . .

This past weekend, we went baby shopping for a Saturday night date to pick out an outfit for the baby to come home from the hospital in. It was really fun. Then, of course, one thing led to another, and we ended up buy several outfits, including this red velvet Christmas dress. It's a 3 month size, which in this brand I think means more 0-3 than 3-6, but she's measuring small now (30th percentile was the result from my ultrasound a couple of weeks ago; not small enough to worry about, they said, just on the little side), so hopefully she'll be able to fit into it sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Baby clothes are the best. You can get so many more outfits than you can in grown up clothes!

While we were in the shopping mode, we also dropped by the Manhattan Mall for some Arby's (thanks to Suzi for mentioning on her blog that there is an Arby's in the city after all). Mmmm, curly fries.


We also took what could have been a great picture of the empire state building if we had used a tripod. Oh well.


Oh, since I haven't posted any in awhile, here's a 29.5 week tummy picture from the Utah weekend. I had a really cute one from a few weeks before, but John decided that it was getting weird to post pictures of a shirtless belly. Any opinions? I just think the bare belly is so much cuter than the maternity tent clothes covered version. Must be the nudist in me.

Tick tock

As I sit here waiting for documents to be loaded so I can help review them (a thankless task in the best of circumstances), I thought now would be a fantastic time to jot down a quick blog entry. But then, I started to write and realized I had nothing to say. What to do?

The past few days have been a flurry of doctor's office visits. After the visit to the dermatologist Wednesday (my copay for 10 days worth of that prescription ended up being $75; insane!), there were the couple of leisurely hours spent in labor and delivery on Friday (due to decreased fetal movement; after an hour on the monitor, some waiting, an ultrasound, some more waiting, an internal exam, and some more waiting, I went home with a clean bill of health). Then, my regularly scheduled OB appointment on Monday, which just happened to be the appointment at which I got to wait around for an hour for the gestational diabetes blood glucose screening. That appointment led to another appointment the next day for an ultrasound to assess fetal weight and determine whether the baby is growing normally since apparently my stomach is not growing as fast as it should (although the rest of me seems to be doing fine). Of course, results will not be available for another week. Whew.

Really, it has been an eventful week after all, just not in that "Oh you'll never guess what I did this weekend" sharing a fun anecdote with your friends kind of way. (Over the weekend, we went to see Harry Potter.) On the plus side, all this doctor's office activity led a partner with whom I work to call to remind me that the firm's top priority is my health and therefore, I should definitely not be worrying about my hours or anything like that and to just let him know if I needed to take some time off (he was very sincere; it was actually quite touching). So, the document review may be boring, but compared to my other friends at NYC law firms, I guess this really is a good place to ride out the next 9+ weeks until maternity leave.

And if you just read all this only to wonder why you bothered, remember that I did warn early on that I had nothing interesting about which to write. It's not my fault you chose to disregard that warning. May next weekend bring experiences that lend themselves more easily to witty or sarcastic blog entries.

Stress

So, apparently, staying up virtually all night when you are pregnant as part of a marathon effort to file a brief that should have been finalized days earlier is a bad idea. Word to the wise. A few days after a marathon session that led to the filing of this beautiful brief in Medellin v. Texas,

I started developing a rash. Like any paranoid pregnant person, I called my OB, where the nurse told me put Benadryl cream on and watch it for a few days. It's probably PUPPPS, she said, a rash many pregnant women get, especially toward the end, for which there is no known cause or cure. If you still have it Monday or Tuesday, call and we'll refer you to a dermatologist. When blisters started to appear, I began to doubt her judgment (also, that Bendryl cream? not even taking the edge off). I did a little research of my own and came to the conclusion that I had developed . . . wait for it - shingles.

Hold on, you say, isn't shingles relegated to people with autoimmune diseases and those over 50? Who gets shingles in their 20s? Excellent point. The doctor told me I must be under too much stress and I should try to destress. Ha! Between an unreasonable partner at work, virtually no progress to date on renovations that need to happen before the baby comes at home, and general pregnancy craziness, I think that's unlikely. Ironically enough, a few minutes later, he then proceeded to get into a fight on the phone with my OB because she had apparently slighted him by taking an inordinately long amount of time return his call. In his defense, it was a long time, and his office had called three or four times, making it clear that they were waiting to speak to someone before letting me leave; hopefully she will have forgotten by the time I go in for my next appointment Monday.

In the meantime, I'm on my way to shell out a chunk of change for antiviral medications that may or may not work, since they're supposed to be started within the first 72 hours. I've now had this for over a week (a big thanks to the nurse who said to watch it for a few days and the dermatologist's office that needed a couple more days to fit me in). Sigh. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I only have ten weeks and two days until maternity leave.