Cravings: Pineapple and Beef Jerky (the cheap kind, nothing gourmet here people).
Aversions: Still trying to slowly rebuild my relationship with pizza and BBQ. Really hoped I would have a magical aversion to cookies and sweets. Sadly no.
Loving: Maternity jeans, being able to stay up past 9:30pm, and finally looking pregnant instead of just the "post giant burrito" look.
Weaknesses: NPR's StoryCorps and Bat Kid.
Missing: Belly flops.
Sara: Did you know that our baby has already formed all of her own eggs? So it's like I'm potentially carrying our grandchild at the same time.
David: It's like you're a turducken!
Sara: Goo.
Our poor spare bedroom. It's been through some rough patches and many transformations. From the Pee Room (which we will never speak of again), to the Guest Room (for a glorious 6 months), to the Room of Requirement when Sara started shoving laundry (and everything else for that matter) in and shutting the door really quickly.
It has also seen lots of coats of paint. Too many according to David. We dabbled in aqua. Attempted a dark grey. The perfect color has continued to elude us like a magical unicorn or double rainbow. But, as the room becomes Baby B's nursery, we finally captured the perfect shade. And the perfect daddy-to-be painted the room. Again. And, as I've been told, for the last fucking time. That's a direct quote (you've seen it here, people).
We decided to take advantage of the unseasonably dry weather and take Baby B out on her first hike. We felt pretty epic exploring this seemingly hidden gem of Pinnacles National Park. Five miles and plenty of California Condor sightings later, we were hooked. And yes, David had to finally cut me off from taking pictures of rocks that looked like penises.
Sara: Our baby will be the Year of the Horse.
David: Hopefully she won't be like my sad horse in Egypt.
Sara: Just don't try and ride her.
David: You put your urine sample in your purse?
Sara: Where did you want me to put it? In my lunch bag?
David: Well, it is cheaper than your purse.
Because nothing says "Happy 32nd year of life" like adorable otters and sea creatures.
This was the year. I could feel it. I was finally going to conquer my arch nemesis: Truffles. I had prepped, bought quality ingredients, and found a recipe on Pinterest that toted "Easy Truffles!". Alas, it was not to be.
Pinterest Truffles vs. Sara's Truffles
As I sit and bask in the glow that is the second trimester, I feel compelled to raise a glass of non-alcoholic, sparkling juice to my homie, First Trimester, and say, "Peace out, bitches".
Dear First Trimester,
I will always remember:
1) Negotiating the terms of my swift and merciful death with a baby that's the size of a grain of rice.
2) Rationalizing why slices of sourdough toast were adding variety and nutritional value to my diet as long as they come from different loaves.
3) Coming to terms with the fact that my cute lunch bag could no longer hold all of my required snacks and that I was forced to upgrade to a grocery bag.
4) Mentally cataloging all of my clothes to determine my best choice of non-constrictive clothing.
5) Then wearing said piece of non-constrictive clothing 4 times in a week.
6) Wondering why I didn't see the value in extreme low rise jeans previously and invest accordingly.
7) Getting excited because I think I'm seeing a bump...only to realize, it's just gas.
8) Catching myself absentmindedly stroking the "bump"...then awkwardly remembering, it's just gas.
9) Learning that "picking up groceries" now means "getting take out".
10) Putting a rubber band on my jeans makes me feel like McGyver.
11) Realizing the "pregnancy glow" comes from hot flashes and over producing oil.
The End.
Soooooo it's been a while. Months in fact. Oops. After our initial excitement upon entering the blogosphere wore off, we quickly realized that keeping it up takes work. And we then even more quickly remembered - we're lazy. Though in our defense, we have been a bit busy:
Cue the Lion King's Circle of Life theme song...
What's that you say? Having an extended visitor, doing a home remodel, and getting a new job aren't great things to do in the first trimester of pregnancy? Spoken on behalf on myself, David, and the bump, we say: No. Shit.
David: We worked on the fence today.
Sara: I can see that. Nailed it.
Pork typically only comes in three varietals for me: Kahlua, shredded, or bacon. However, I may be persuaded to add ribs to my exclusive list after David's foray into the world of smoked baby back ribs.
Far be it from me to stand in the way of MY man's primal need to connect with nature through the art of smoking some poor defenseless piglet in a metal spaceship-like-orb from Orchard Supply and Hardware. No, I will simply stand to the side and be prepared to be fed or to judge (whichever comes first).
David: The ribs will take about 4 hours and should be done no later than 7:00pm.
Sara: Ok.
5 hours later....
Sara: So you said 7:00pm right?
David: I'm pretty sure I didn't say that.
All in all, the rubbing, seasoning, smoking, and basting were all worth it. Crispy, juicy baby piglet ribs were enjoyed by all.
Well, almost by all....
Last night we got to see one of our favorite artists, Brandi Carlile, in concert for the second time. She played at the Mountain Winery again in Saratoga which has quickly become our favorite concert venue. I mean, who can beat a pre-show picnic overlooking the valley with a bottle of wine followed by a small venue with a French stone chateau as a backdrop?
We love seeing Brandi live because she has such an immense voice that no recording can resonate the same way. More than that, her songs have a way of making you feel happy, deep, inspired, and adventurous all at once. Plus, David loves the ridiculously short lines in the men's bathroom that happen at lesbian folk rock shows.
Managed to get some Brandi footage too so be sure to check it out!
Happy Friday!
xxx
Corrib
Pictures from our July trip to Hawaii are up and available on Flickr. Click here to check them out!
Poor Corrib (also known as Fluff, Murff, and Chunk) has had a pretty rough couple of weeks. First, it was having her scalp cut into with safety scissors. (Feel free to take a moment to enjoy the irony. I know I did.) In her fluffy defense, this was a direct result of her pet parents' 1) cheapness and 2) ineptness at dog grooming. Two staples in the head later we figured we were in the clear with our vet karma.
We told her the staples gave her street cred.
Sadly, Corrib's summer camping got the better of her and she brought home a zillion (give or take one or two) foxtails in her paws. All up in there like it's their job (which it could be given that I don't know any other worldly purpose for foxtails). Two trips and an invasive "probe" later, the Fluff is rocking the antibiotics and a new bed and blanket (old ones burned - see Velveteen Rabbit).
We tried to tell her she was lucky that it was only her paw that was probed.
Corrib is taking sympathy donations in the form of cheeseburgers. Or bacon. Whatever.
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