Baby, you rock my world...

...you really, really do.

The incredible roundness of you...

34 days, give or take.

That is when I am finally going to meet you.

You are showing signs of wanting to be early...have been in launch position for a month now, kicking me in the ribs, stretchingstretchingstretching as though your limited space has become slightly annoying. Braxton-Hicks contractions are giving way to something a little different...downward contractions that make me feel like a human whirlpool.

My huge, round belly twitches and jumps with your every movement. I tickle a foot as it floats by, pat a bottom, caress a hand. I know things about you...your heartrate, the width of your shoulders...I know when you will be sleepy and when you will be alert and awake. I know barking dogs frighten you, and purring cats lull you. Any hand other than mine landing on my tummy will cause you to lurch away...and then, very slowly, you will investigate the foreign hand...kicking it gently, worrying at it...wondering. You are already wary.

You roll like a whale under my hand. Every night before I sleep, I lay and contemplate what life with you will be like. I wonder who you will be. I think over all the things I would like to teach you.

Mostly, I just tell you that you are the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. That, until we began this strange journey together, I had never really allowed myself to believe I would or could be a mother. You, my accidental baby, have taught me otherwise.

Thank you for choosing me, even if I may not have seemed to be the best choice.

I promise you that no matter what happens...no matter what I have or may not have to give you, I will love you for always.

*siiiiigh*...

So, there is this guy I work with. A real mouth-breather. A real mouth-breather whose middle and last name are the same...(which is not his fault at all...just worth mentioning)

Anyway, Mr. mouth-breather and I were having a discussion about reincarnation. Please do not ask how the topic came up because I cannot remember, exactly...just that it had something to do with being bored to death at work.

Our little conversation went something like this:

Mouth-breather: Do you believe in reincarnation ?

Me: In some ways, yes. I'd like to think that I could come back as something or someone completely different...like, I think it would be really cool to live in Jupiter's atmosphere.

Mouth-breather: Wouldn't you rather be part of the sun so that your energy could live on forever?

Me: Energy changes from one form to another...like heat to mechanical...but it can never dissipate. So, no matter what, the energy that was once me would live on somewhere. I would just rather be a conscious creature...even an ant, or a naked mole rat.




Mouth-breather: Wouldn't it be cool if we could be reincarnated into the past instead of the present or the future?...

Me: (Thinking that this is actually a brilliant concept and lamenting the fact that I never thought of it before. I mean, hell...I could come back as Mary Magdalene, or Sylvia Plath, or Kurt Cobain. Time does not have to be linear. Maybe there are all these alternate realities piled on top of one another like philo pastry and we can skip from layer to layer! Mouth-breather is smarter than I thought...)

Mouth-breather: ...like, for example, I could go back to when the original N64 was released.



Me: *banging head on desk*

Gotta hand it to him...his wants and needs are simple. He wishes to go back to September 1996 and play Starfox on his brand spanking new N64.

Godspeed, buddy. If you ever get there, maybe alternate universe me will share her console, and introduce you to "Conker's Bad Fur Day".



But only if you learn to breathe with your mouth closed. :)

Today...

I feel like this:






and a little like the shack in the picture below:






And a whole lot like the owl in this photo (this shot was snapped just before he "bit" my finger):



But, I am ok. In fact, I am fucking brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, that I could catch on fire...go atomic...go fucking supernova, and no one would notice because I have just always been that way.

Enough about that, though. I really just wanted to share these with anyone who happen by here. These 2 blogs are well worth becoming part of anyone's daily surfing routine...


Petunia Faced Girl

(the above lady is hilarious, and the post I have linked to is fucking genius...not to mention disgusting)

Black Hockey Jesus

(this guy is just...jaded, and wonderful, and brilliant...and slightly disgusting...)

:)

Boys are found everywhere -- on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to...A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.
~Alan Marshall Beck

The Light Fantastic

There have been thunderstorms moving through...our first of the season. How fitting that they should arrive today...on the first day of my birth month. The first day it has felt like summer.

Amidst the rumbling, flashing, brooding and ever darkening-ness of this evening, the sun came out. The black sky beyond looked all the blacker; the rainbow that much more beautiful. And, since the sun chose the very moment it was hailing to come out, the sky was full of tumbling opals...ice on fire.

And, this delicious sky is the aftermath of the atmosphere's hissy fit...





*sigh*.... :)

Ouch...

Pontchartrain

Sunday:
Dark water draining north, the heat
Swells and bursts like plague.

Sunday:
Ever-so-faint slow tambourine
Glides onward toward the grave.

Who drew the line?
Who drew the line between you and me?
Who drew the line
that everyone sees?

Darling,
Lake Pontchartrain is haunted:
Bones without names, photographs framed in reeds.

Darling,
What blood our veins are holding.
The overpass frozen, fires ablaze at sea.

Who drew the line?
Who drew the line that cuts to the skin, buries me in?
Tell me who drew the line.
Darling, don't close your eyes.

(Lie as darkness hardens.
Lie of our reunion.
Oh lie if God is sleeping.
Oh I believe you now.)

Darling,
Lake Pontchartrain will cradle me,
and all you left behind.

Listen:
Ever-so-faint slow tambourine
is marching back through time


Vienna Teng