Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Holy CRAP, she's good.

I love Rihanna's music, and I'm a piano player since the age of four. I hardly play at all these days, but daaaaamn, this girl makes me want to start playing again.

So ridiculously good.

And, by comparison, here's "Please Don't Stop The Music" by Rihanna.

Go ahead. Shake what your mama gave you. I dare you.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The Pregnant Post

I never thought this day would come, but here it is. I'm writing my official "I'm Pregnant" post. It's a monumental day, full of streamers and parades and - O.K., I'm kidding. I actually have a head cold, I can't take any good drugs for it, and I'm working like a banshee, so no parades. But I am pregnant. Pregtastic. Pregalicious. Preggaleggadingdong. With child. Expectant. Knocked the heck UP.

I'm almost 4 months along now, and I haven't written a lot over the past few months, mainly because I've been preoccupied with the notion of being someone's mother and trying to get through the first trimester successfully, without any issues. I'm also what the medical industry refers to as a "woman of advanced maternal age," so I'm all old and senile and forgetful, apparently, and this obviously affected my writing ability as well. The major plus with being an almost 38-year old hag and pregnant? They dote on you. I've already had four ultrasounds, for chrissake. It's kind of awesome. They make you do genetic counseling and you get to find out how old your uterus really is. Mine turned out to be between 19 and 20, so I was thrilled. I asked the genetic counselor lady if she could also make my body and skin go back to being 19. I didn't have crow's feet then. And my butt was way perkier. But I digress.

So, am I going to be one of those chicks who blogs entirely about her pregnancy and becomes all Kathy Lee Gifford-esque and annoying as hell? No, probably not. But I will talk about it. I figure it's my one and only shot at doing it - this will be my first and last kid, I venture to say - so now that I'm past the first trimester hurdle, I'm just going to enjoy every last weird thing my body is undergoing. But I'm going to be honest about it. That's just my way. My friends tell me that it's a beautiful thing - it's magical and miraculous. I agree on part of that so far. It is incredibly miraculous, and I can't believe I'm actually growing a human right this second and still able to walk and stuff. That sort of blows my mind. As for the beautiful thing? Well, I feel like a bloated cow with borderline narcolepsy. So, if that's beautiful to some people, cool. I mean, whatever floats your boat. I, however, wouldn't necessarily call it beautiful. Miraculous and amazing, yes. Beautiful? Not so much, but I'm not giving up hope.

So there's my pregnant post. Daisywriter - the chick that was nomadic in the city a mere 4 years ago - thrust into marriage with the greatest dude and stepmotherhood with absolutely no training or skill whatsoever - is now going to be someone's Mom.

Holy crap.

Talk about the absolute pinnacle of delicious ambiguity....I just can't wait to meet the little Peanut.