Somehow it is hard to believe that I am now more than halfway through the pregnancy! It seems like just yesterday we found out (on Mark’s birthday, nonetheless!) and now here we are, I am starting to get a proper bump and Little Doodle, at 22 weeks, now weighs a whole pound!
We went in for [...]
Random photos I’ve saved over the last couple years, posted for your enjoyment/horror.
Do you know what response I am tired of getting when asking a question? The phrase, “How long is a piece of string?” What baffles me even more than the sheer number of people who find this to be the appropriate response to give when asked a question is the sheer number of people who find it to be a satisfactory answer to the question they asked.
I don’t consider myself to be a person who asks for a lot. But when I ask a person for something relating their job, you know… data they SHOULD know because they are getting paid for this, I expect an empirical answer. For instance, if I ask a colleague at work “What is the timeframe for that?” I do not expect to get in response, “How long is a piece of string?” I expect a number or approximation or YOUR BEST GUESS FOR CHRISTSSAKE BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE PAID TO DO. “Normally it’s 10-15 working days, but you know we are backlogged, and Vicky is statistically likely to call in sick in just another two days time due to her ‘time of the month’ approaching.” Even that is a slightly better response.
“And when do you expect to have your bill paid?” “How long is a piece of string?” It makes me cringe. I’m sorry Sensei, your answering my question with a question of no intrinsic value must be one of those metaphorical journeys of the mind I’m supposed to undertake in order to grow as a person, much like discovering just what IS the sound of one hand clapping? Or, more importantly, how hard can I punch you in the mouth? (Everyone’s got a plan until they get punched in the mouth).
All I know is, I know EXACTLY how long MY pieces of string are, so stop being lazy and measure yours.
Random thoughts I’ve had as of late:
- I think I’m going to take advantage of some of the time off I have whilst on maternity leave to learn how to cook. It’s been a long time coming, and with nine full months off work after Little Doodle is born, I really should utilize any time not devoted to the baby. Because really, when you fear screwing up boiled rice, it’s time.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost
While an entire nation was busy watching, praying, and volunteering to help get an innocent 6 year old boy down from the sky in a homemade weather balloon… a couple was laughing at how easily the instant renewal in their publicity had come. Not going to bore you with the details as everyone as I’m sure had heard the story of little Falcon Heene ad nauseam by this point, but I would like to join the official side of the “the parents are camera hungry whack jobs who staged it” believers. And I will tell you why.
