I've got Johnny Cash's song "Hey Porter" stuck in my head. Maybe because I know that Walk the Line opens this weekend. Good stuff.
Sunday, I gave into another pregnant woman cliche and donned a pair of overalls (borrowed from a co-worker). Yes, they were quite comfortable. Comfort however did not completely compensate for the fact that I looked like a fat farmer.
My retarded neighbor spent all weekend vacuuming the leaves off of his front lawn with his leaf blower. For hours on Saturday and Sunday, I was subjected to the loud "Whrrrrrrr" of his damn machine. What kills me is that it probably would have taken him (and his lazy-ass progeny) a few hours to rake up the leaves into piles and then sucking them through the blower. That would have given him back a plenty of time to sit and worship his God in the Giant Lighted Box in his living room.
Finally saw the film Crash. See it. Excellent writing and acting. Some of the most well-drawn and realistic characterizations I've ever seen on film. Just see it. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Middle of the night leg cramps suck. My first serious Kid-Brewing side effect if you don't count the massive weight gain and unnessecarily large boobs. Saturday night, I just about gave Adrian a heart attack screaming bloody murder when my right leg seized up. Then Sunday morning it took about three hours for the kinks to straighten out and my leg become useful again. Today, my calf is still sore as if I'd run a marathon.
Child Birthing classes are turning out to be interesting. I feel like I should be hysterical, scared, or at least nervous about the whole thing, but for some weird reason I'm not. This could be dangerous. I normally get a lot of my freak-out energy out before something big takes place. God forbid, I go into labor, get to the hospital, and then flake out BIG TIME because I've not gotten all my serious willies out beforehand. Maybe I should forget about trying to go medication-free and asked to be anesthetized right off the bat.
I hear in Scientology that silent birthing is promoted. Wonder how poor little Katie feels about that.