Thursday, February 25, 2010

Sayonara, Belly Button!

You've treated me pretty well so far, little Fancy Pants. No morning sickness, no chronic or serious aches and/or pains to speak of and so far (KNOCK ON WOOD) zero stretch marks. 

In return, I'll bit a fond adieu to my belly button for now. 

I must say, you were pretty cute this morning. As usual, I was trying to take a 15 minute power nap after my alarm went off when I noticed a rhythmic ticking in my belly. I opened my eyes. 

Thought about it. 

Is that a hiccup? 

ARE YOU HICCUPING?! What else could it be?!

 Aren't you cute!?

I called your Dad right away to tell him about it- as usual, he was alarmed (he gets nervous, you'll get used to it, it's because he loves you and doesn't want ANYTHING to hurt you, EVER) and told me to call the doctor's right away. I suggested that he should do a search on the Intrawebs (something else you'll learn about us, I know it's called the Internet, we think it's funny to add letter Ss or Rs when they don't belong...) Dad quickly found out that hiccuping in utero is, in fact, very normal and a sign of a strong, healthy diaphragm. 

He's proud of you. Good work. (I know, I know, sometimes he's easily impressed. Just think of how fun it will be to show him when you learn how to blow bubbles with saliva or poop in Technicolor.)

Let's talk about PopPop. You know your cousins Jake the Snake and little Miss Caitie Mae were born last week. Well, in the spirit of never having a dull moment in our family, Grandma Grace decided it was time to take PopPop to the ER after two days of what he thought was the stomach flu and sharp pains in the abdomen. Turns out, PopPop needed to have his appendix removed. 

PopPop: Acting up, as usual. 

So, you'll be happy to know that during our last birthing class we learned how to swaddle you and put on little shirts and hats- it's going to be your first outfit. Grandmom was there- Dad was coming home from Florida so I'll show him how to swaddle on Scamp- and Gram got all teachery on the class telling them how much you'll be attached to my natural aroma so we should always keep cloth diapers around so they pick up the scent- you'll be happy to know that I alternate smelling like coconuts and roses thanks to Lush and BeachBum cosmetics.

Grandmom is funny- you'll like her. She brings pillows everywhere so it's softer when she sits on hard chairs.


It's funny, something else we learned about really caught my interest. We watched a video (you'll probably NEVER own a video tape) called the Amazing Baby. It talked about how some mom's fall in love with their babies while they're pregnant, some when they first see them, and some it takes a few weeks to warm up to them. I'll be honest, I didn't know how to act in the beginning- my body wasn't giving me any indication that I was pregnant so it was really hard to tell that you were there- you were being shy. As the days and months began to pass on and I started to feel polite pokes and your little body shift, I grew fonder and fonder of you every day. 

You have nothing to worry about little miss or mister: I'm a sucker for you. 

I'm really excited to meet you.



  

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

$8 Eclair

A's arm and the MONSTER eclair, behind slice of carrot cake.

This is as serious as it gets. After all of my years traveling back and forth to South Street in Old City, I CANNOT believe I NEVER stopped at the 4th street delicatessen once. Shan, A and I where looking for a bite to eat after swinging by a fancy fabric store a few blocks up and we were greeted by the most ferocious display of desserts I've ever encountered. 

EVER.

When I see an $8 eclair on a menu, I welcome it as a personal challenge. Granted, I still have some left, three days later, but MAN is that stuff good. Please go if you haven't already been. 

Monday, February 22, 2010

Baby Pool!

If you didn't play already...it's time to. Go ahead, I'll be waiting right here. 

Friday, February 19, 2010

The hospital camera adds ten pounds.

I was up at 4:30am to take Madge to HUP. She had a procedure today- the moles on her fanny (actual fanny) she had removed a month ago didn't have definitive borders so they wanted to go back and get a little more skin to make sure she didn't have cancer...on her fanny. Nothing like talking about your mother's fanny. Gross. 

She lead me to believe it was less of a big deal than it was...we got to the hospital and they explained how the general anesthesia would affect the rest of her day. Wait, what? She's going under? Uh, Ma- and you wanted to take the Market Frankford line? 

Madge, ARE YOU NUTS? Rhetorical. 

So, back to the significance of February 17, 2010. Flash back to July 28, 2009. Many of us were celebrating my husband's birthday on this day- it was his 29th. Lauren called me just HOURS before we went to the bar to find out that she was pregnant. I was thrilled for her. At best, she was nervous. It was NOT planned-but nothing good ever is, as far as I'm concerned. She and her new-ish boyfriend were just about to move in with each other. She was excited about the progress of the relationship and was a little concerned how quickly this would force things to progress. To add a little more insult to injury, the day before Nan was found dead in her condo- passed from natural causes in her sleep. Although it's never easy, the blow of the passing of our grandmother certainly was softened at the discovery of the babe on the way...

Nan always had a funny, backhanded way of complementing a person- and I appreciated that she told it like it was (whether you wanted to hear about it or not) in a way that was unique to her. She promised that she'd dance at our weddings and when the time came, wished that we'd each have a baby one day...just like us (I suppose in retribution for all of the heartache we caused our parents.) Unfortunately for my sister Lauren, Nan didn't get to see the fruition of these promises come true while she was still with us...or so we think.

In October I got a call from Lauren. Although we were fighting something fierce, she called a truce just long enough to tell me that she was not expecting one baby, but two. I kidded with her that Nan was with her- and that she wasn't going to have just one baby just like her...but she'd have TWO just like her. And I thought she deserved every second of it ;-)

Lauren's water broke on Sunday night, February 14th. She was 33 weeks and 3 days pregnant. The goal was to try to keep the babies in until Thursday- 34 weeks is a pretty good week as far as gestation goes. Lauren called me on Tuesday  to explain they were going to induce her at 9pm- and that usually the babes would arrive about five hours later.

Todd and I got to the hospital around 11:30pm on Tuesday night. we all sat around basically biting our nails listening for people walking by hoping they'd bring us news. Shortly after 1, Big Todd (note to reader, Lauren's BD's name is Todd also.  My Todd = Uncle Todd, Her Todd = Big Todd- he's 6'7") burst through the doors informing us baby A was a boy. Fifteen minutes later, baby B arrived and was a girl.

Rewind an hour and a half. Although waiting to hear about a baby is really the only news you need, I was relived and happy once midnight hit. You see, Nan's birthday was February 17th. And now so are Caitlin and Jacob's. Nan didn't get to dance at Lauren's wedding...but they will whenever that day is. 














Marie (Nan)


Cait and her sweet bow














Jake catching some rays before it's time to come home.


Thursday, February 18, 2010

No time to chat!

What a busy week. No time to get into it, so here are some highlights. Pardon the varied picture qualities. I need a new phone with a better camera. 

 28 weeks. I have red shorts. 

We ran all over the Earth and finally back to Ikea to finish the baby room - Ocean theme it is! (I made those curtains, thankyouverymuch!) 





The cats are being weird and following me everywhere. I think they know.


Made a baby sling. Scamp seems to like it.


Caitlin joined us- 2/17/2010, 1:16AM, 4 lbs. 4 ounces. (I want to steal her.)


But not before Jacob! 2/17/2010, 1:00AM, 4 lbs. 7.8 ounces


Todd got me Valentine's flowers and chocolate covered Entemens dernuts (not pictured.) 


Grandparents couch (Rags is asleep!)


Madge showing off her new outfits.


Dad telling Monique it's a boy!

And I think that's it for now...I'm going to see Lauren and the babes before my 28 week glucose screening test. More blergs about how the story of the significance of the twins' bday to come.



Friday, February 12, 2010

Why aren't more people talking about crock pots?

This stuff can't be messed up- ok, I'm sure that's not 100% true but crocking is SO easy. I really like to cook but notoriously- I have this horrible tendency to "throw a little extra something *wink wink*" in a pot or bowl before I whip it together to make it extra special- too many times (more like every single time) I ruin the dish. Or make it some I'd never want to make it again.

Enter the crock pot that I ended up making $3 for (old bridal shower BB&B gift card balances + rebate) and buy one get ones at Giant. 

Last night's recipe called for a frozen London Broil (I don't usually buy real fancy meat- but again, buy one get one's are the jump off to a good dinner) an envelope of Lipton Onion Mushroom sauce (or something like that.) I let that stuff sit there for about six hours- take the lid off, stick carrots, a bunch of little potatoes, a few cloves of garlic and some halfed onions in your crock slow-like POW! (see how I fit Wu-Tang in there?) This all happened while Todd was at his basketball game last night (I'll get to this in a minute) . 

Todd got home around 9 and with some of those 'throw in the oven to finish cooking' rolls we had a real FEAST. I'm reheating the left overs for lunch and it made my boss come out of his office lead by his nose trying to figure out what's going on. I'm a chef! Well, maybe not, but I'm excited to know that hopefully when it's Fancy's time to go off to college s/he will be REALLY excited to come home to one of mom's home cooked meals. 

The best thing about pot roast- it looks like barf but it tastes like magic.

So back to Todd having to go to his basketball game last night. This was a 5th and 6th grade girls CYO tournament. When he told me it wasn't cancelled I told him there's NO WAY it was still on. All of the schools in the Philadelphia region were closed and it was just impossible. Apparently not. 

I forgot what time his game was supposed to be so around 8:30 I started to get real nervous (and I was hungry- there was pot roast calling my name.) I finally sent him the- I'm nervous, please call or text so I know you're not dead- text. For about ten minutes I sat watching some nonsense on the national geographic channel and thought about terrible things like a fatherless baby...or a 29 year old husband-less wife. Awful. I ate a few thin mints to try and make me feel better. It distracted me for a few seconds but then it gave me heartburn. He called about ten minutes after my panic-y text. I felt a huge sense of relief.

It's weird, I don't usually worry like that. I know I won't be able to avoid it in the future as we brace for bringing our spawn into the world...but maybe people shouldn't have CYO basketball games just 24 hours after 17 inches of snow is dumped on the region. Jerks. 

Cherk it out.

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I don't know what this bloglovin' stuff is...but I like to check new things out.

I don't know about this one...


Ugh. 

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Thursday, February 11, 2010

Excellent. A cold just in time for a LONG work weekend!

Aside from a nine hour power outage, these snow storms have been a welcomed change to my normally busy Spring routine. It's provided time to spend around the house and enjoy each other before we have to really buckle down and finish out the winter.

I've been worrying a lot recently- about just about everything. I worry about having friends (what else is new?) about money (oil company stopped by to drop off $400+ of oil this morning- see ya, monthly paycheck on the 15th!) about my job (and whether or not I'm doing a good enough job at it), that I want to climb out on the roof and brush off some snow so it doesn't collapse but my husband would kill me if I did it...among plenty of other things.

I've been thinking and thinking and thinking about the blog I posted a few days ago- do I take it down? Wait- I can see people stopped by to read but no one (minus Todd) left comments- eeek, did I offend anyone? Blogger's remorse, if you will. I know we all have it- I think I even edited that post about fifteen times (which REALLY reminds me that I forgot to mention this gesture that I REALLY appreciated: Kelly is planning a trip to Vegas in a few months- close to after Fancy's birthday- but she still included me on the invite- probably knowing that I would turn down the invite but what if I could go? She let me decide. Kel- thanks for that. ALSO- my friends are exempt from those jerks who make me feel like a pregnant fifties house wife- the people who I was really referring to are more like associates.)

Digression...I started blogging a few months back after I really enjoyed reading about my friends' lives. I felt that although we didn't talk every day or sometimes for months, we'd be able to keep up with each other's lives or read about fun little nuggets they have to share through the magical interweb.My posts started off as very light- and as I came to feel more comfortable about letting people in to read about actual events and feeling- things are naturally get a little heavier from time to time.

I was an English major in college- but writing was never something that I wanted to focus on because I was too nervous to let people read what I have to say- but now, I kind of want to hear people's reactions and wonder if no comments fit with the "no news is good news" mentality or is it more like, "when you don't have something nice to say..." addage.  And anyway- what do people care what I think anyway?

You know what? Well, I don't (know, that is.) But I like writing- I like keeping up on my reports (Dad-ism.) I like reading about the thoughts I had over the summer. And I bet I'll really like looking back on this in a few years to see how much has changed (hopefully not much...except that I'll be independently wealthy and retired by then.)

After 30 years of life, I feel I really have worked through a lot of my insecurities. I was happy to notice a few months back that I wasn't often reminded of other's thoughts- sort of a those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind kind of a deal- but then I was SHOCKED to think, "wait, they must think I'm a real asshole...am I that annoying person?" And you know what? I might be. But I might not be too.

I have to keep reminding myself over and over again that inherently, people mostly think/worry/check themselves- myself especially- so I should try and spend my time thinking about other things- like how I can start making money on teaching yoga and stop giving free classes.

If I could change a one thing about this- it would probably be that more strangers would comment on eachother's blogs. Kind of a, "Hey! I don't know you but this stuck out to me," or "Hey, jackass, did you ever think that no one gives a shit what you think?" I click on the "NEXT BLOG" icon at the top of mine all the time to see what others have to say on the topic and I comment all the time.


Well, I have nothing left to report except that I recently saw RuPaul on Wendy Williams and now I think I'm going to buy her book because I think she's hilarious (and has better hair than me.) Shoot, if she can write a book- I can write a measly blog (oh, and by the way, Jenny McCarthy's Belly Laughs isn't as funny as it's made out to be. And it's poorly written. It's like what Twilight is to Harry Potter minus the riveting storyline.  Really. I know about a few people who might be better qualified for the job and furthermore- we live in a world where Michael Lohan exists and is paid to talk on Extra...I say good for him.)

Cookie, my diligent editor.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Sometimes knowing it's going to happen doesn't make it any better.




We're getting closer and closer. Last night after eating some crock potted tacos (I'm getting more and more efficient in the kitchen thanks to my crocker) Fancy was having a real fiesta dancing around like the little Mexican jumping bean s/he is. Either s/he loves tacos or HATES them. Either way, it made Todd and I think about the possibility of a Cinco de Mayo baby. It's fitting, really since the name 'Todd Kurpel' has quiet a similarity to the fast food chain Taco Bell. It only makes sense. BUT it also means that baby is RIGHT around the corner.

I can't really express how excited I am to welcome my little cauliflower into the world- I feel like we know each other already. I've never felt this sense of anxiety and fear but at the same exact time, a feeling of self-assuredness feeling that my mom, dad and step-mom prepared me as best as they could to be a mom.

I'm beginning to see Fancy's little personality and quirks here and there- for example, even if s/he is having a particularly thrilling dance party, s/he is lulled to sleep when I practice yoga. Something struck me again this morning. When I told my friend Janet about being pregnant months ago she said something that hasn't left me yet: that at least for the next nine months, I'll never feel lonely...and although she's right and I've been referring to myself as "we", my little partner in crime, for months, sometimes I can't help BUT feel loneliness- like I'm leaving something behind.

This isn't a pity party- not at all- as stated, I'm VERY excited and  happy about the baby- in fact, I can't wait- it feels like Christmas Eve every single day... I like to gaze at my funny figure in the mirror every morning, I like to wrap my belly with this one sweater from old navy, I'm amazed with the strength, gusto and energy pregnancy has graced me with, and I can't wait to see what we've made...BUT I still can't help with every little kick and poke and every conversation with friends and family, and the obviously bulbous belly right under my nose, I feel a chapter of our life ending with the dawn of the next one just around the corner. It's bittersweet- truth be told, sometimes it just makes me want to kick people in the shins.

I see the looks on some people's faces: my players- when I hop in a drill to demo throwing and catching a lacrosse ball are afraid of my fragile state (honestly, I'm in better shape than some of those birds.)

I can see the look on some faces or hear the doubt in voices when I say I'm coming out to hang out at a bar or see a show-and see some of the sly looks as I leave earlier than most- but that's because I didn't spend all day in bed sleeping off my hangover- I got up and seized the day- at an early hour!

I'm tiring of the comments from some (discussing the impending storm- a fact that I'm not completely upset about) "no, you can't do that, you're pregnant."

...But people...I'm pregnant...NOT DEAD. There's a baby in my belly, I'm not sentenced to some terminal disease. So let's get over this together: I'm not making excuses for me, don't you do it. A bunch of folks my age are a new crop and breed of pregnant ladies. We're the kind of ladies who go about our lives; we're the pull-up-our-boot-straps kind of people -the type looking forward to seeing what our tattooed skin will look when our grandchildren sees us in bikinis (and how we'll explain ourselves with some of the more embarrassing body art choices.)

I think another reason why these feelings are popping up are because it's all people want to talk to me about these days. It's like I'm a one trick pony. I get it. It's obvious. I'm having a baby....and I'm tiring of the first question out of every single person's mouth every time I seen them (even if it's day after day): How are you feeling? Ugh. Is the baby kicking? UGH. You must be tired. UUGGHH.

As mentioned, these thoughts and feelings are stemming from the ending and subsequent beginning of life chapters. Furthermore, I'm near CERTAIN that my recent seven months of sobriety has something to do with it- similar to the way I see people poke and prod at fires to wake up the embers that are burning out. I've had to occupy my life with activities such as room painting, dancing in the living room with my MP3 cell phone pressed to my belly, baking, juicing, cleaning up messes made by other people as well as felines, and clear-minded thinking...oh, the thinking. It's enough to drive a lady to drink.And sure, it's the winter so there aren't as many outdoor activities available (and I live in Aston...)

I'm rambling. And I'm being selfish because I know I can't have it all- to be able to talk about my funny little baby made by a serendipitous Myspace match only when I want to and everyone react to it exactly how I want them to ...and to shut up about it already when I'm tired of the subject...but I'd sure like that to be the case. (So get with the program, people!)

So I'll shut up for today except for one final, sweet note: carrot pineapple juice is REALLY good.

Monday, February 8, 2010

27 weeks and some change.

I forgot! New belly pics!


27 weeks, 1 day (12 weeks, 6 days left!)


SNOW!

I had such a busy work-filled weekend planned- I'm SO happy it snowed 28" in my little town. I came home on Friday after work (early, I might add- we dismissed at 3pm!!) and didn't leave again until 10am on Monday morning. This left room for copious amounts of at-home, indoor activities.

1. Did a shit-ton of laundry and rearranged the laundry "system" we have in our bed room/the baby's room. Got one of these bad boys and might get another for a simple baby clothes solution until we move into a larger place (holding my breath for that one...)

2. Made the most DELISHOUSH cup cakes in the world only adding one extra step and ZERO extra ingredients.

- used stand mixer to follow beating direction (not the extra step, the box actually suggests using an electric mixer.)
- while preheating the oven, put an additional pan in with water- let it preheat an additional ten minutes and then stick the pan(s) in with the water so it can steam it some. Two days later- awesomeness is STILL happening. I made cuppie cakes so with the batter left over I made little (but bigger than cup cakes) molten lava (adding choco chips into the batter) cakes in my soup-sized pyrex dishes. WHEW! Talk about adjectives.

I don't like to put on icing...so I just gobbed in on there. 




3. PAINTED THE LIVING ROOM! I've been thinking about doing this ever since I painted it last October. I have vaulted ceilings so I went with an olive green ceiling and lighter walls so it would hopefully make the room look a little more quaint and not so HUGE. It didn't. As Todd put it, it looked "sterile." Because I'm afraid of paint, I usually choose a color that's two to five shades too light and this is exactly what happened. Well, my five blog readers, pregnancy has made me a little more gutsy- and I went with a color that resembled milk chocolate...and it looks AWESOME. Thanks to Todd for coming down with flu-like symptoms so he was out of my hair for the three hours it took for me to paint the place and keep the molding clean (he doesn't color in between the lines.)
 (picture is on the boat the Mi Dushi in Aruba. I want to be there now.)

What else...hmmm. Nothing, I suppose. Oh yea, Hey Lauren, if you read my blog, STOP TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHEN YOUR SHOWER IS BY USING PROCESS OF ELIMINATION...YOU SAID YOU WANTED A SURPRISE SO QUIT IT.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

You lika da juice?

The juice is gooooood.

My favorite juice of all time is freshly squeeze orange juice.

Gram and Gramp would come over every morning to help get us off to school. While mom was running around with her own routine (which is strikingly similar to the tornado method that I've picked up- not enough time and WAY too many tasks) Gramp would make himself comfortable on the couch for a nap (it was 7am after all) and Gram would get to work on our breakfast.

Growing up and living mainly with Madge, cash was a little tight. Although my parents certainly supported each other we didn't have a Barbie Dream House or newest GIJoe toys, but we were by no means neglected. There were a some things here and there we went without but there were also a few little luxuries that Madge would not skimp on- namely certain delicious treats that I now rely on in my adult life as quick, go-to delights.

One that needs no explanation is a brown bag favorite; a Cheese Whiz and bacon sandwich. The other is a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. In retrospect, Madge probably spared no expense here for the 10 pound bag of oranges and saw this as preventative medicine (she also packed a sliced apple in our lunches everyday... that I threw in the trash...everyday.)

It's funny, I actually consider myself a morning person...but I'm not not sure others would be inclined to agree- although I like to get up early, it HAS to be on my own terms. Waking me up for school each day was a chore that I'm sure Madge would've been happy to trade in at any time. Simply stated: I'm a grump when I'm woken up. I hiss. I shoot the hairy stink eye at my waker. In my school days, I would flounder around in my bed, pretending not to hear her, and often make excuses that it was Ed or Lauren's turn to get up first. I'd do just about anything to stay in bed longer. When I eventually got up, at some point in the routine I'd hear the familiar whir of the electric orange juicer through the muffled sounds of the WMGK morning show that Madge would jam out to (she's into country these days...she had much better taste when she was into Wham.) This would be enough encouragement to start my day.

I would rush downstairs with a few minutes to spare before having to flash out the door and swipe my juice from the table. Some days I would have a few extra minutes to spare to sit down to enjoy my breakfast: bacon and cheese whiz first, carefully saving the OJ for last. I'm of the crop of people who enjoy a thick, pulpy glass of the stuff- some days I would like to have the juice strained and eat the pulp by itself, other days I would ask Gram to let the flotsam swim throughout so I could take in a little with each sip.

This morning my adolescent treat was relived in my own kitchen. I took my time getting ready this morning since I won't finish practice tonight until 8pm. All week I've been enjoying new juice concoctions but this morning was by far the best I've made yet: Orange Pineapple juice. The fruit was so sweet and so ripe...I was only upset that I didn't make more.

The one difference that I noticed while brewing my morning nectar was the sound that the machine made. A juicer sounds little more like a buzz saw while an citrus juicer omits a sound that I can't quite put my finger on...a mix between a vacuum cleaner on a wet shag rug, the sound of car wash sponges wetly slapping against a windshield and Fozzie Bear's voice.

I highly suggest getting a juicer- and only paying $10 to a guy named Cook at the Media train station for it. Best $10 we ever spent.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Juice!

3 carrots + 2 apples = Apple Carrot juice. It was sweet- but VERY Earthy (I didn't peel anything.)

It was good.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

98 Days for $10!

I was inspired by Shannon this weekend- we borrow ideas from each other from time to time. Well, I borrow ideas from her, at least. I'm not sure she's decorating her nursery to look like Marge Simpson- but I swear, it happened by accident- I always choose a color paint that's not what I wanted (hence the Simpsons flesh-toned walls) the crib that we like just happened to be blue and cartoony shaped (bee hive inspired) so I figure well do some green floor-length drapes (dress inspired) and get some red paper lanterns (necklace/shoes inspiration) along the ceiling to finish the job. Kids like bright colors so I hope this move makes up for my baby's first bed being next to a toilet. Have I mentioned that I'm already running for mom of the year (MOTY) already?

My new camera is waiting to be picked up at the UPS joint by the airport so I'll start taking less grainy pictures. Hopefully I'll have some proof that not everything I do is a poorly-executed great idea.

Anyway, I digress. Fancy is coming in just 98 days. I remember our 98 Days celebration at Prendie like it was yesterday. I can't imagine almost being 30, yet alone a mom, and it's all happening over the next six months. BUT if this Sunday night with Ava is any indication of what kind of a mom I'm going to be, I think we'll fair well. It was bath time for Cub and she was tired after a LONG day of a friend from school's third birthday party- she didn't get her nap so just about everything (but mostly uncle Todd- she's afraid of most men these days) was setting her off into a fit of crying and rage. It's really hard not to laugh at their fits. (I'll make sure I put this statement on my MOTY nomination.)

So we were in the bath room and I was trying to convince her that she needed to get in but she INSISTED on having Gramma bathe her. She started to cry a little so I told her if she wasn't going to get in the tub, I was going to. She looked at me- basically calling my bluff- with the hairy stink eye so I knew I had to keep my act up. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants and got in the tub in my clothes. Thank goodness for strong enough quads and hammies- I was able to hover riiiiiiight over the water for about five minutes and she got a kick out of Aunt Sarah in the tub with her clothes on. Now, I didn't win 100%- she didn't get in the tub until Gramma came in but we 100% avoided a meltdown...and she even thought it was pretty funny so I got some giggles and grins at least.

Now for my Shannon inspiration: Shannon threw a 70s themed 40th birthday party for John. The centerpiece of the dessert table was a chocolate fountain flowing with the stuff that dreams are made of. Luckily, my friends and they're significant others are not disgusting- a fact that I am so thankful for. They're generally clean people who (as far as I know) practice the art of hand washing. Normally I don't participate in a fountain of any kind unless I get first crack at it because I don't know where people put their disgusting hands. AND- how do I know they don't have some sort of communicable disease? I don't. I digress again.

So the point of this story is that Shannon bought the fountain for the party. A chocolate fountain is one of those appliances that everyone secretly (or, who am I kidding, overtly) wants but rarely purchases because- ...what am I going to do with a gun rack? Use it for the one party? Then if I get to cleaning it before the dried chocolate ruins (or 'runes' depending on your dialect) it I consider it a winning effort and put it away with the other rarely used misfit toys. BUT- Shannon was smart. She found that ish new, in the box, second hand. Awesome.

Now back to me. I've been longing for a juicer for some time now. Jay Kordich and his eye brows have been taunting me for as long as I can remember with his train wreck infomercials about delicious nectar from fresh fruits. With the help of his juicer he promises long life and decadent beverages- who doesn't want in on that? Enter shady exchanges from Craigslist. I'm a woman of a certain number of months pregnant. I'm in NO position to go to a strangers house and pick up their discarded juicer six months pregnant. So, I figured Todd was better suited for this transaction since he's been training for a marathon- as least he could run if things go sour. He called "Cook" from Broomall (he seriously asked Todd to call him this) and they arranged to trade $10 for the Juiceman Electronic Professional 410 Series at Cook's black pick up truck at the Media R3 train station.

After a thorough cleaning of said machine this morning I dumped in slices of lemon, a big 'ol chunk of water melon and cored apple (to ward off too much lemon bitterness) for my first shot. Shit worked like a charm and I was even able to find the instruction manual online!

More recipes here. All thanks to this guy: