Yes, it's true. We're all still here. Gordita is learning a new dance; it seems like a cross between the mambo, a "Lord of the Dance" style Irish jig, and kickboxing. It seems to be joyful and festive, and involves a lot of foot action, and also, punching.
Today I went to lunch with Lesley, Joel and Stacey at this new restaurant in Oakland. Then I headed to the hospital for my second antepartum test. Everything is the same, though the monitor showed I had a couple of teensy tiny contractions while I lay there. I couldn't feel them though, so they're not doing me a whole lot of good.
Here are a couple for the It Could Be Worse category though. The woman in the cublicle next to me in the testing room today was 15 days overdue and isn't being induced until Wednesday, and it sounded as though she had actually checked into the hospital two weeks ago thinking she was in labor, stayed for two days and then was sent home. And then, the woman in the cubicle across from me was 35 weeks preggers with twins. One twin was head-up, one was head-down, from the sound of it, meaning she could have to endure both a vaginal birth and a C-section. So, in terms of relative sucktitude, my life is not really so bad.
I unintentionally made a very spicy dish this evening. It was from Real Simple's food excerpt published recently, in an article on casseroles, and it was one of the dishes I was planning to freeze before we ran out of room in our freezer. The recipe called for 3 tablespoons of chipotles in adobo sauce. I should probably have cut back on the chipotles. Regardless, I ate it enthusiastically, hoping that maybe it would upset the balance of things.
How silly has my life become that I am sharing the extremely mundane details of my day with all of you, in an effort to assure you all that I'm not in labor?
Maybe I'll bake something tomorrow. I'm really and truly out of things to do.
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