Fun with Language

So I went to Target yesterday. Which was thrilling, as always. Anyway, on my way in, I noticed a sign on the door that said, "Only service animals allowed inside store."

Which was awesome, because it made me picture a Target that caters exclusively to seeing eye dogs and helper monkeys.

Fly, My Pretties! Fly!

So this photo was posted on Dogs Looking Like People with only the following commentary:

"I don't know."


OK, I know most people aren't as obsessed as I am... but really, does no one else immediately recognize them as the Wicked Witch of the West's flying monkeys???

Good TV Remains Addictive, Even with a Baby to Distract You

The husband and I had not watched an episode of "Lost" since Ozmo arrived on January 28. I was a little worried that his two-week spring break would not be enough time to catch up on the 7 episodes that had piled up on the Tivo.

It took two and half days.

Adjustments

Just six months ago, I considered the following to be noteworthy accomplishments:

A sold-out house; patrons going out of their way to compliment my staff on their excellent customer service; a quantifiably successful ad run; creating and implementing more efficient data collection procedures.

Also: making and serving a scrumptious dinner; ample time spent with the husband; finishing an excellent book.

Not to mention: getting all errands done quickly and efficiently on a Sunday morning; meeting friends for a leisurely brunch; being caught up on e-mails and phone calls.

And now, successes include:

Getting through bedtime at night with minimal fuss; loading the dishwasher; taking a shower; convincing Floyd we still love him; and best of all, coaxing a smile out of Ozmo.

I know this period will be brief, and that items from the above lists will eventually make their way back into my life. Still, though, it feels a little strange. Good, but strange.

Ozmo Blogzmo

As you likely know, before we knew Calvin was Calvin, we referred to him as Ozmodiar - Ozmo for short. We have the sneaking suspicion that that nickname will stick around to some extent (thanks partly to Rob, who continues to insist that our child's name ought to be Ozmodiar Floyd Jr. Elzweig). As such, to keep up with his comings and goings, we are proud to present Ozmo Blogzmo. (There are some older posts here as well detailing some of the pregnancy goings-on....)

Because you don't already have enough that you're not paying attention to in your RSS feed, I know....

41 Weeks and Counting

So for those of you keeping score at home, yes, Ozmodiar's estimated date of delivery was Monday, January 19. And for those of you assuming we've just forgotten about you... while I must admit I wish that were the case, that I had, in fact, given birth and just flaked on communicating that to my friends, no, the stubborn little stinker is still hanging out inside my uterus.

The husband has pointed out that he and I both tend to be just a tiny bit stubborn (I know you're all shocked by that revelation!) and, as such, perhaps should not be surprised by our offspring's reticence.

If he or she doesn't choose to make an appearance within the next few days, we'll head to the hospital later this week for an induction. (The husband was glad to hear that "induction" is the official medical term rather than "inducement" since, as he pointed out, we've been trying inducement for days now, shouting at my belly, "Hey, come on out! Bush is out of office! We have great things out here like chocolate and video games!" These efforts, clearly, have been to no avail.)

So there you have it. Hopefully you'll see a blog post and/or e-mail (from him, clearly, not from me) by the end of the week. Thanks, as always, for the well wishes that you've been sending our way, and wish us luck!!!

1 in a Series of N

Where N will, I assume, approach infinity. Theorizing that the likelihood of me being six months pregnant just in time for Halloween was unlikely to happen again, the husband and I decided that a theme costume was clearly in order. And, as such, I present the first photo which we have no doubt we will enjoy using to embarrass Ozmo during his or her adolescent years:

And for those who are wondering, that dress is not from a costume shop, but from a website that purports to sell actual maternity clothes. What you can't tell from the photo, sadly, is that it came down to the mid-thigh area, if that. And that the neckline was, um, deep. It was fascinating. And led to many jokes about how women who dress like that after becoming pregnant? Well, it's not hard to guess how they got that way (ruining my feminist cred a little here, but come on! it's just so easy!). Sadly, though, the sequins scratched my arms up so badly that the dress ended up in the dumpster the next morning, so I'm afraid you'll never get the chance to see it yourself.

Not much excuse for my silence over the last couple of months. Given that I pretty much spend my days incubating, it's not like I haven't had the time... but I suspect that's actually the reason for my lack of communication. After all, how many times can I say that my joints ache (to be expected), I'm pleased to have the time to cook a lot (although that's fading now that we're in the home stretch and I'm spending less and less time on my feet), and I thank my lucky stars for Netflix (speaking of which, "Weeds"? Is AWESOME. At least season 1 is.).

Anyway, not much else to say. The pregnancy has not been complication-free, and we got to know Prentice Women's Hospital much better than we wanted to much earlier than we wanted to. But all issues seem to have cleared themselves up, there was never an official period of bed rest, and we're feeling lucky for the support and good cheer of those around us. We're 12 days away from the due date, but we also know that first babies apparently frequently arrive late, so I'm preparing myself for the possibility of, say, 3-4 more weeks of sore knees and shoulders. Such is life.

See? This is not interesting. Pregnant prom photos, however? Those are TOTALLY interesting. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a second season to dig into.