Potpourri

Do you remember when potpourri was the big thing? And you could find those heavily-scented bags of sticks and pine cones freaking everywhere, and SHAME upon the household that did not have at least one of those electric or tea-light-powered potpourri warmers?

One time I forgot to dump out the moistened potpourri in the top dish and it grew what appeared to be a lovely turtleneck sweater.

In Which I Pretend I’m Being Interviewed by Barbara Walters

…if Barbara Walters lived in upstate New York and knew how to properly butcher a deer, that is. Yes, I asked (begged) Kristin from Going Country to tag me for this little interview meme in which she comes up with five specific questions that I must (I MUST!) answer. And then anyone who wants to be interviewed by me can request for me to do so in the comments.

And I promise not to ask you what kind of tree you would be.

Full of Hope (and Glorious Carbs)

Yesterday at work, the powers that be decided to acknowledge the fact that everyone was watching the inauguration festivities at their desks and totally blowing off work anyway, and had a pizza lunch for us in the large conference room, with all three large-screens broadcasting the official swearing-in.

I like to joke that my pathetic pregnant self was more excited about the pizza than the inauguration, but I was seriously more excited about the pizza than the inauguration.

(KIDDING.)

(I don’t really even like to JOKE about how glad I was to get Obama up in that bitch.)

(But I was totally excited about the pizza too. Trust.)

The Ordinary and the Extraordinary

Hello, Internet. Yes, I’m still alive, although the -5 outside temperature this morning has killed my spirit a little.

I also has a distinct lack of maternity thermal wear.

Dear Coworker…

Love, Jive Turkey

[Alternate post titles include: "Get Some Fucking Coughdrops Already," and "How About Shutting Your Fucking Door So I Don't Have to Listen to Your Best Impression of a Victorian-Era Tuberculosis Ward?"]

What – No Mint On The Pillow?

Wednesday night, Brad and I took a tour of the Labor & Delivery floor of the hospital where I will be traumatizing my brewster begging for narcotics trying not to poop during labor having our baby.

A really terrible date movie.

Tootsie & Me

This weekend, my sister and 5-week-old niece came to visit and spent the night on Saturday. Since my mom wasn’t there to be my sister’s wingman on dusk-to-dawn infant duty, this meant I got to experience my first night on a baby’s schedule. This also meant I learned several things, not the least of which being that I will try to make coffee without actually putting grounds in the filter when I am operating on very little sleep.

It really doesn’t take much to fry pregnancy brain, let me tell you.