All-right, already

Gee you people are pesky.

First MB calls and wanks about my absence from blogging, then BH comments on my dear, sweet child's blog about my lack of posting, not to mention the numerous e-mails and back-handed complaints about the demise of Glib Gal I've gotten in the past two months.

Truth be told, I've been a bit busy since I became enslaved by an 11 pound screaming blob that depends on me for everything. Let me tell you, having a baby is nothing like having a kitten. They don't tell you a bunch of stuff about pregnancy and newborns. Or maybe I never paid attentnion. If they told women everything, I am certain the species would be extinct. Well, maybe if it weren't for the cuteness, smiles and sounds that little blob makes. It's her only saving grace, I tell you.

So there's really not much to post about these days. I've lost all the pregnancy weight, except in my boobs. Sadly, though they are huge and now have names (Laverne and Shirley - because they worked at the bottling factory while in the hospital), they are no fun at all. Sometimes they leak, sometimes the ducts get blocked, and most of the time a small being is attached to one of them. Such is my life these days: no sleep, things leaking, still no alcohol, and a sudden ability to leave the house in sweats and a t-shirt - something I wouldn't do before except for a workout.

I do, however, have something to blog about. It's this:
Yes, that is a pregnant woman outside the OBGYN's office in Bakersfield. Q snapped these shots while he waited in the car during one of my recent visits. Yes, he is the perfect husband - caring for our child and snapping shots for the blog! Who can doubt our love now?

So this lady is clearly pregnant, in the parking lot outside the birth center, having one last drag before going in for her prenatal care.
This, among other reasons, is why I did not want to have my baby in Bakersfield. Alas, Lentil Bean is cursed for life with filling out numerous forms wherein she must answer "Place of Birth: Bakersfield" and "Mother's Maiden Name: Klingon". Sorry Lentil Bean, just now that what embarrasses you makes you stronger. Trust me, it does.

Things to do before you die.

I've bicycled through Europe with strangers, climbed mile-high mountains, eaten a snake and drank its blood in a bar in rural China, served my country, jumped out of an airplane, swam in several seas, even buzzed along a zipline through a rain forest. I've been to Ozzy Osbourne's house for a party, sipped water from a glacial stream, done a TV commercial in exchange for beer and jack cheese, gone to college, dropped out of college, and one time I drove a dogsled. I've bought and sold many a thing, driven fast cars, bottle fed baby zebra, had my heart stopped by the sound of a floor to ceiling organ in an 800 year old cathedral, operated a D-9, planted a farm, swam with mermaids in a natural spring, caught a fish and fried it up by the river that night, and changed my mind about a thousand things at least a thousand times. I've fired fully automatic weapons, bailed a sibling out, needed bailing out, been up, been down, been detained in a third world country, learned a foreign language, taken pilot lessons, sang karaoke, put myself through law school, run my own business, sold a tv show option, buried a friend, gone a round or two in the ring, fallen in love, eaten quiche on the Champs Elysees, and skinny dipped under a waterfall or two. Yes, some would say my life list was already quite complete - that I've been lucky to have taken every opportunity and lived so fully and I would've agreed until I learned what I learned at 6:21 pm on Tuesday, October 16. That being, of course, that the greatest adventure, the most overwhelming feeling you'll ever have, the biggest accomplishment in any life, has to be seeing your child for the first time and knowing that your life has just gotten bigger, fuller and way more meaningful.Yep, that's me and the Lentil Bean. Q was fortuitous enough to capture my expression when she (that's right, SHE!!!) was first shown to me after 18 hours of induced labor (about 10 of it very unpleasant) followed by the emergency cesarean section by which the extremely large (8 lbs, 3 ounces) Lentil Bean was wrenched from the womb and shown to me. How a person can look that happy after nearly 24 hours of nothing short of misery goes to show how powerful the moment is. Ionly wish I'd have captured his face as they first held her up to him - it was incrediblly happy as well.

Here she is at about 10 muinutes old.
Note the nice, round head and lack of old man wrinkles. That's because she's already so stubborn she refused to even attempt entry into the birth canal.

And here's another nice shot taken by Q as I carried my own urine into the operating room. Catheters sure are fun!
Lentil and I both ended up staying a little longer than expected. I spent six days trying to get my blood pressure stabilized. Of course, the cause of my high blood pressure was most likely the sad fact that they took a feverish Lentil from me on Thursday and put her in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). It's not cool to take a baby from a mom and not tell her anything. Luckily, she only spent five days there and we were allowed to visit frequently. It was sad to see her all hooked up with needles, though:
Alas, all is well that ends well and Lentil came home yesterday and, as you can see, things have returned to normal in the McQ household (identity withheld lest child protective services reads this blog)...Oh yeah, we didn't name her Lentil Bean. Her official name is Sarah Addison McQ. By the way, Sarah means "princess" and Addison means "awesome". Princess Awesome. No, we didn't know that until I was released and we found the baby name book. How cool is that?

The Lentil Bean Cometh...

Thought I'd let you know that tomorrow (October 15) might be the day Lentil Bean arrives.

Had some elevated and abnormal levels of things during my doctor's visit last week, they ran some tests, then called me Friday afternoon and told me to stay in bed, on my left side, all weekend and watch for a plethora of symptoms, which, upon experiencing, I am supposed to rush to the hospital immediately. If I make it through the weekend I'm supposed to go directly to the main lab at 6 am Monday for further testing, have breakfast and relax, then go to the doctor around 10 am to see what the results are. Oh, and since I live 45 minutes from the hospital it might be wise to bring my bag and car seat, "just in case".

I think the doctor had a wine tasting weekend planned and just didn't want to ruin it by having to induce me or do a c-section on a Friday night. The good news is that Lentil Bean is full term and if he or she does come out tomorrow there are no issues with development or being premature or anything like that. If Lentil doesn't come out tomorrow I'll probably be on bed rest until it's time. That would suck as I don't do well sitting still and lying on your left side isn't as wonderful as one might think.

So if you don't hear from me for a couple of weeks it may be because the Lentil Bean is out and Q and I are running around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to figure out what to do next. Or it may mean I'm just lying around ignoring you.

Something to scare you this Halloween....

Woo hoo!!! October is here! That means Lentil Bean is coming soon. I'm officially "full term" so it could be anytime in the next few weeks. Let's hope for sooner rather than later because the last month or so of this ordeal is pretty much crappy.

Anyhow, since I'm not sure how much longer I'll have this orb attached to me so I thought I'd better immortalize it here and give you all a good scare with some photos sure to make you double wrap in the future. Sadly, this is what I see when I look down...
Perhaps even more sad, just six months into married life, this is what Q sees every morning:
I don't know, but I think I kind of resemble Demi Moore's Vanity Fair preggo layout...except maybe she had better lighting and no granny panties as an accessory:
Oh, and for your further amusement and enjoyment, some of you will be pleased to learn I have now topped the 170 lb mark on my latest weigh-in at the doctor. Good friend B said she's delivering the baby jogger next week so I can get back in shape right away. Thanks, B.

The Incredible Expanding Woman

Spoke with MB the other day and he begged for a recent picture of my ever-expanding self. Ever one to please, I asked Q to take one last weekend. I handed him the camera and he took this one of me from behind. He's romantic like that.
You can hardly tell I'm pregnant, right? Some might even think, "Wow, nice arse." Then I turn to the side and people flee at the sight of The Great Pumpkin:
I don't know what's up with my hair, either. I got it cut - a phenomenon among preggos - we feel ugly so we go do something like lop off our locks so we can go home and cry about it to our bewildered spouses. Then we put our feet up and eat ice cream while lamenting the loss of hair. I believe it was BH who once asked what a cankle is. This, my friends, is a cankle:
I actually think it may be a thankle on some days. Note the crease in skin and severe ankle bulge. I can no longer wear anything but men's extra-wide flip flops, and those sometimes leave an indentation. In fact, if you push on my foot you leave a fingerprint. Still, I'd rather have the cankles than the hemorrhoids that most preggos get.

Finally, yes, that is Midge in the background. I'm having a hard time parting with her. Interested callers are treated rudely and not even allowed to come see her as I decide they are not worthy for some reason or other. As Q says, we can just disconnect the battery, cover her up in the barn, and run her once a month until we decide what to do. Sounds good to me.

Bye the way, Lentil is due in about a month!!!

Lentil Bean is Growing Up

The kid's been bugging me about this for weeks. I figure with six weeks until Lentil emerges, he/she was ready for his/her own blog. Some of you may think it's too early, but we are progressive parents...

In other news, that's right - only six weeks until the arrival. I'm glad because this whole being preggo thing is getting old. I'm fat, tired, haven't seen certain body parts in months, and am just plain tired of sucking down Tums like I used to drink Murphy's. If you want to experience pregnancy for a day I suggest strapping a 30 pound medicine ball to your belly, eating something that brings on killer acid reflux, ingesting as much salt as possible so as to have cankles so huge you can leave a finger indentation in them (Q's favorite party trick), then trying to sleep that way. Be sure to have to wake up every two hours to pee or roll that lump over to the other side because your hips hurt. For added effect, turn off your AC or turn your heater up to 98 degrees - the temperature that it always feels like no matter where you are.

Not that I'm complaining...I'm actually very excited to meet Lentil and have a little discussion about the appropriateness of sticking one's feet in another person's ribs or punching them in the bladder.

Farewell to Midge

Just spent the last hour placing ads to sell my beloved Midge - the 1976 Mercedes 450SL I bought myself when I passed the bar exam. This car, especially when topless and accompanied by a non-pregnant me in a matching Dodgers hat turned a few heads in the greater Ventura and Santa Barbara area in its day. I almost sold it when I moved, knowing the mountain roads and unpredictable weather would be the death of her, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Since the move I've driven it a few times and, surprisingly, didn't even need it to snare Q (although he secretly wants to keep her for "date night").

Now, with thoughts of car seats, small person bodily functions, and graham cracker crumbs crushed on leather seats, I've accepted that it's time for Midge to make someone else cool for a while. Besides, I can get a god chunk of change out of her (still less than 92,000 original miles) and know she'll be cared for while I tool around town in my cousin's old Honda Civic.

Yep, that's the replacement, family-friendly car I'm getting. It's practical (4 doors - I've never had one of those!), will run forever, gets good mileage, and, best of all, won't have a car payment. Q and I will reassess the vehicle issue in a few years once we figure out how this whole parenting thing works. And we made a deal that we each get a car, any car that we want, no questions or comments allowed by the other party, in 18 years when the Lentil Bean leaves for college or runs away or does whatever unimaginable teenage thing he or she will inevitably do as payback for my own misspent youth.

Still Smiling

Lentil Bean, that is. Went to the doctor last week because as I had a couple of days in a row wherein I had the distinct pleasure of not only being unable to sleep, fat and cankled to the max, but also leaking fluid while walking around such places as Home Depot and Albertsons. It's lovely to wet yourself in public. This caused my first meltdown of the pregnancy, which I think is pretty good at seven months. And don't think Lentil won't pay for this down the road sometime.

Anyhow, the doctor did all her poking and prodding and everything is fine. The cool thing was that because I'm so old and the leaking of certain things is a bad thing, they sent me for another ultrasound.

The technician remembered me as half of "the fun couple with the smirking baby" and once she assured me all was well in utero she said she wanted to look at the baby's face again to see if it was still smiling because she never sees that in the womb. Mind you this meant switching over to the $400 per minute 4D imaging machine but she said she wouldn't bill us for it. Way cool to have a lab tech who not only remembers you but is willing to use the expensive equipment because she thinks your baby is cute. I told her I hope the kid isn't too cute because I want it to be nerdy and join band or Academic Decathlon or something. I guess not many folks in Bakersfield have such aspirations for their progeny. Go figure.

Anyhow, Lentil has grown considerably since the last look, and now he/she has some serious cupids bow-pouty lips:
Of course, Lentil was frowning a bit at first. The technician commented on it and said she didn't expect to see another smile as she'd never seen the same baby smile twice in the womb. Overachiever that Lentil is destined to become, he/she immediately smiled for us:
I just hope it's an indication of things to come for little Lentil.

Lentil's First Dodger Game/Fun Things to Do when you're preggo #4

Headed down to Chavez Ravine to introduce Lentil to the sounds of America's game on Sunday and learned that it's not just fat men in Pittsburgh that can utilize their gargantuan bellies to show their team spirit, we preggos can do it too:
Nothing says "GO BLUE!!!" quite like a big white belly emblazoned with the letters LA. It also leads to many comments about what great parents we will be and how we are already raising our child right. A special thanks to Melon who finally got to put that art degree to work on the canvas that is my belly. I'm sure the Art Institute is proud and will be featuring this in their alumni update.

One thing I did learn at the game is that $6 Dodger Dogs are only palatable after drinking at least three $11 beers. If you just have one with a Coke, they are awful so I would recommend foregoing the infamous dog unless sufficiently inebriated with watered down beer.

Of course, seeing as how this was Lentil's first Dodger game, we had to get him/her a souvenir t-shirt. And seeing as how I'm twisted and feeling maternal but couldn't find my old Cabbage Patch Kid, I decided to have my dog, Riley, model it for you. Good thing she's a perfect size 6-9 months:

A baby shower, hasher style

Headed down to Santa Barbara this weekend for my first baby shower as hosted by good friend SC. Here's a pic of SC and me.
She's happy because she finally has a flatter stomach than me and has had about 14 shots of tequila at this point. I'm happy because I knew she'd feel miserable in the morning.

The baby shower was great. We scored lots of great loot for Lentil Bean - from clothes to books to a playpen to toys. Awesome and thanks to all who attended. Those who attended also scored in the form of numerous of pomegranate martinis, high end margaritas and beers. They say you should get your child accustomed to the sounds it will hear in its first months out of the womb and it's safe to say Lentil will definitely be used to the sounds of drunken revelry. It should prepare Lentil for a future that involves uncles who feel comfortable cross-dressing. Yes, this man was at the shower and provided a lovely outfit (gender neutral) and some baby toiletries for young Lentil:Of course, he wasn't dressed like that at the shower. He was playing a part at the hash run we went to after the shower. No, I didn't run, I walked - as did most of the shower attendees. Well, they more likely stumbled but it was fun nonetheless.

Of course, with my cankles and gigantic feet I had to get some new shoes the day before the run. For those of you that don't know what happens when you wear new shoes to a hash event, it means you are ostracized and then forced to drink beer out of those new shoes. Seeing as how I couldn't drink beer and SC felt compelled to tell on me for wearing new shoes (thinking Q would have to drink for me but forgot shoes come in pairs), she and Q earned the privilege of each drinking from one of my shoes. Thanks guys!
Speaking of Q, here he is proudly pointing to his handy work. I look tired because I just lugged an extra 30 pounds up a hill with me in the heat and could only drink water at the top.
And per your many requests, here's a nice profile of me and Lentil at seven months of sharing the same body. Yep, it's quite obvious I'm pregnant these days.

Not sure where Lentil thinks he or she will be finding more real estate between now and October.

And yes, I'll post more pictures now that the real fun has begun in the form of weekly expansion. Other than being somewhat uncomfortable and bulky, I feel fine and Lentil is destined to be a cage fighter based on how often I am kicked and punched.

Fun things to do when you're pregnant #3

Go to a beach in a bikini. This works particularly well if you are extremely pale, that way others can bask in the reflection off your belly once they regain their sight. One tip, though: have your significant other dig a hole in the mid-towel range so you can lie on your belly. You can roll over when unsuspecting people walk by and scare them. This is even more fun if there are preteen boys around to scar for life.

Fun things to do when you're pregnant #2

I'm learning that now that I look pregnant people look at me differently. Lots of folks ask if it's a boy or girl, when due, etc., so at least now I look pregnant rather than just like I was putting on the pounds.

So yesterday Q called me at work and asked me to pick up some beer on the way home. I didn't think twice and waddled on into the local grocery store, grabbed a 12 pack of Sam Adams, then grabbed a pack of marked down 4th of July cupcakes and headed to the express check out. I didn't consider how this looked until the checker asked if I was planning a wild night while glaring at me and my belly. The only thing that would have made the moment more entertaining is if I'd have asked for a pack of Marlboro's to go with it. And yes, I was wearing flip flops and a tank top to add to the look.

Next time I'll have to get some hard liquor too.

Lentil's First Smirk

I know, I know...It's been a while. What can I say? I've been busy getting to know my husband (who just returned from 9 weeks in Europe) and growing a baby. It's a difficult transition for a confirmed bachelorette. Think about it, not only am I married, I'm getting fat and I can't drink!!! That's like a triple dose of life. Note to readers: Only try this at home if you have a sense of humor and are willing to waddle on cankles for months.

We had our ultrasound last week. Technology is crazy. They now have 4 dimensional imaging that allows you to see everything - even the four chambers of the heart (which Lentil has despite certain transgressions by her mother in Berlin). Everything is fine and Lentil is either bigger than usual for six months or I'm a week ahead of the game. I'm hoping for the latter because I'm scared to death of popping out a baby.

Anyhow, here's a typical ultrasound shot of Lentil in profile:
My mom thinks he/she looks like Bob Hope with that big forehead (from my side of the family) and ski slope nose (from ??? side of the family).

And here's the money shot. We were looking at Lentil's little face (at 1.5 pounds total it couldn't be that big - that's how amazing the technology is) and her/his mouth was a straight line, then, like she knew we were watching, she smirked:

See the upturned corners of the mouth? I must say she's pretty cute and now I can't get that little face out of my head. I say she because I hope for a girl. Face it, they just have cuter stuff. But just so you all know - we are one of the 7% of couples who decided not to find out what the baby is (the ultrasound tech was astonished we looked away and didn't crack). We figure this whole thing has been a surprise so why not let Lentil shock us one more of what will no doubt be many times. Besides, this way Q gets to rush out of the delivery room and proudly announce, "It's a .....!!!"

Lentil's First Sex Show

After a couple fo days in exciting Rheine I hopped on a train and headed down to Kaiserslautern to see my old friend A and her family. I've know A since the 11th grade and she joined the Air Force a year after I joined the Navy. She stayed in and has been stationed in Germany for about four years. I hadn't seen her in about three so it was pretty fun hanging out and seeing her and her four kids for a couple of days. I sure wish I'd visited before I got knocked up, though. Visiting a house with four kids ages 8 months to 14 years is the best birth control in the world!!!

After a couple of days hanging out in Kaiserslautern we ditched the kids and A and her husband and I drove up to Amsterdam to meet Q for Memorial Day weekend. If you've never been to Amsterdam, you should go. It's a great city to walk around, hang out with a beer or coffee at a sidewalk cafe, and just watch people. There is also a lot of culture there - the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum and all sorts of stuff to make you think if that's what you're into.

Of course, we weren't into thinking so we met up with Q (who was working on worsening his gout), grabbed dinner and headed for the famous Red Light District. Here's a picture of Lentil on her first trip to the district, isn't it cute?With daylight fading and all of my traveling companions sufficiently lubricated, we perused the streets of the red light district in search of a live sex show. You don't have to look far as there are salesmen outside every show trying to get you to come in to see the show. My favorite guy had an auctioneer-like quality about him when he rattled off the contents of his show in under 3 seconds: "F******, sucking, smoking, blowjobs, banana, 25 euros, 2 euro beers." Seriously, say it 10 times fast out loud in a nasaly voice with a Dutch accent and you'll get the picture. A found the guy less than charming so we moved on until Q recognized the glowing pink elephant that signifies the most popular live sex show in the red light district. Of course, there was a line outside and it was 15 Euros more than the auctioneer's place but we went in anyhow. After about a 20 minute wait we got in to the show. A wanted to sit in the very front row. If you know A, you know there's no point arguing with her when she's sober, let alone drunk. So I headed to the front row with my three drunk companions. The front row was so close that our knees were literally up against the stage.

There's a reason no one sits in the front row at a sex show: It's gross in the TMI, holy-cow-I-didn't-know-they-came-like-that kind of way. Everything is happening just a foot or two in front of you, right at eye level, and you can practically smell the latex. And let me tell you, the beautiful people of the world are for some reason not drawn to live sex performances as a career. Their parachute color is not red...

In case you don't know what goes on in a sex show, there are several "acts" wherein the performers do various things from smoking cigars to chopping bananas to shooting ping pong balls and making change with their body parts, in addition to more conventional heterosexual sex with men with enormous genitalia that will make all audience members seem inadequate, a smattering of oral sex, and an occassion lesbian encounter. Literally something for everyone. Each act lasts about the length of one song and involves some dancing or attempt at role play to give it some substance. After all, we all want our live sex to be meaningful, don't we?

We eventually gained entrance and walked in on the first act which was basically a stoic-looking woman playing with a light-up dildo. Nothing too special so I spent much of my time just watching the bed spin on stage and noting the shoddy appearance of things, contemplating what diseases I might be contracting but then deciding the cigarette smoke had no doubt asphexiated any living organism in the place. You have to remember that I was completely sober, it was late, and Lentil was present. Not exactly how you want to be when some one is playing with a glow stick a few feet in front of you.

After the first act Q and I were discussing moving back a row or two when, I'm not kidding here, the Batman theme song started playing. In case you don't remember, there has been a Batman theme in my life for sometime. Click here, here, here, and here for a refresher on past references to Batman on this blog.

So the Batman theme starts playing, the original TV one, and a large black man in a mask, cape, buttless chaps, and what appeared to be a faded Batman logo half-shirt came prancing across the stage in search of the woman who was presumably his catwoman for the night. Q and I looked at eachother and just laughed. What are the odds we would pick a sex show in Amsterdam featuring Dutch Black Porno Batman (DBPB)? I wish I could have taken my camera in. Even better was the fact that DBPB has his arse pointed directly at our friend B, who's face was approximately two feet away from said cheeks whilst DBPB received fellatio from a Catwoman that spent much of the act yawning and rolling her eyes waiting for her shift to end. I was quite impressed when Catwoman laid on the rotating bed giving DBPB a BJ while he sidestepped around with the bed. They must have worked on that one a while.

Soon after DBPB we saw a woman smoke a cigar with her hoo ha while laying back on the spinning bed in the middle of the stage. She blew rings and everything but looked incredibly bored with the whole thing. I wondered what her OBGYN might think when he discovers she's got nicotine-related cancer cells in her cervix?

Q and I eventually moved back a ways. A and B sat gape-mouthed, apparantly enjoying the show. To me it was boring, mechanical, and not the least bit enjoyable. One act had two people having sex and changing positions to the beat of the music. It was like dancercize mixed with sex and if you listened you knew they at least had rhythm. Later some girl came out with a guy in a monkey suit but didn't even do the banana trick. What a rip off!

Q and I had seen enough and headed back to the hotel. It was about 2 am. A and B didn't get back until about 4 am and later reported enjoying the show very much. Different strokes...

Note to readers: Do not sit in the front row of a live sex show stone cold sober while pregnant. It might make you question your abilities as a parent.

The next couple of days we all slept in then Q and I hit the Van Gogh Museum (all the good stuff is out on loan to other museums!) and the Rijksmuseum (under construction with only 10% of exhibits open), and just walked around the city. If you go, be sure to hit the Leidesplein and Centraal Plaza where there are always street performers and vendors of things unique to Amsterdam. For example, this is a lady who sold us some "original" watercolors for Lentil's bedroom. She was kind enough to tell us what she was thinking when she sold us them, and even signed and dated them for free. We were quite happy with our original work of Amsterdam street art until we saw the same painting with another vendor the next day. Watch out for her, she is a sweet talker and hangs out at Leidesplein on weekends...

We also hit Centraal Plaza, saw some Dutch breakdancers who were quite good, watched a guy juggle fire while riding a unicycle, and then I noticed this:

Yep, that's a guy dressed as The Mask in the middle of the center of Amsterdam. No, I didn't ask why. I just thought it was strange.

Oh, and if you're looking for a great hotel with an awesome location in Amsterdam, try the NH Schiller on Rembrandplein. It's on a busy square right across from the famous statues of Rembrandt's The Night Watch. Any hotel on the square would probably be cool. In fact, here's our motley crew with The Night Watch one day:I'm the short one whose pants barely fit. You know why? Because I was in denial that I am pregnant until I woke up one morning in Amsterdam and my belly had finally "popped":Seriously, I felt my ligaments stretching all day while Q and I went museum-hopping and I woke up the next morning looking pregnant. No more denial for me now...

On that note, I flew home the next day and found not only was my belly huge, I had developed cankles. I blame Q, Lentil and Batman.

Lentil's First Nightclub

You know me, I like to do it right. I expect nothing less of my unborn child, Lentil Bean. This includes enjoying the nightlife and experiencing life to the fullest - even if it starts at just 16 weeks after conception.

That said I took Lentil to her (I'm thinking it's a girl) first nightclub while we were in Berlin. She really had no choice in the matter and is probably deaf as a result. During our ever-romantic honeymoon we somehow ended up being invited to a worldwide battle of the bands called Emergenza in a smallish, dank club on a sidestreet in Berlin called SO36.

We met up with Q's co-worker, L, and his two young female friends at a bar near the club for a beer before heading in and learned that one of the girls' cousins was in a band that was competing. Our job was to boo at all the other bands and raise our hands for her cousin's band, Orange Distortion so that they might win and move on to the next round of Emergenza. Here is a link to Orange Distortion's MySpace site, complete with sample songs.

The club was extremely dark and smoky and filled up quickly with lots of young Berliners. We watched a few bands, two of which sucked really bad doing something like punk-rap, and one of which I really liked that did a modified cover version of Stray Cat Strut in German. I sort of speak German so it was really interesting to listen when the songs were not mere screaming into a microphone.

While at the club I decided to treat myself (and Lentil) to a schwarzbier (black beer). One beer turned into two and then maybe a third. In my own defense we were there for hours and it sucks to be pregnant in a smoke-filled punk bar listening to young Germans rap to the beat of Metallica. So, if Lentil ever has any physical or behavioral problems Q and I intend to blame it on Berlin. And really, if you can't blame the Germans, who can you blame? :) And at least the first time we catch Lentil drinking we can tell her she really got drunk for the first time in a night club in Berlin during a punk/rap/crap music competition. How cool will that be?

After our wild night in Berlin I was feeling a bit jetlagged and Q was suffering from a beer-induced episode of gout in his big toe so we decided to head back to Rheine and relax for a day. Seriously, you can get gout by drinking too much beer. It isn't pretty and is apparantly quite painful. But it's funny when you get it from too much dark beer...

Seeing as how I'd been traveling for four days straight and Q had the gout, I figured we'd stay in bed all day but Q was restless and made me go to Bad Bentheim (aka Badmitton) for even more sightseeing and schnitzel. Actually, it's a nice town with a castle and that quaint German feel to it. Although I wouldn't recommend the curry wurst. Yech.

Here's a picture of Badmitton castle:
Especially impressive were the gardens below the castle:
Perhaps even more cool than that was that we were in Badmitton just in time for the regional go kart races:Remember go karts? Think back to a time before personal injury lawyers...I remember strapping plywood and refrigerator boxes to a couple of three inch wide plastic skateboards (the kind with see-through wheels) and barreling down the streets of Fillmore as a kid. No helmet, no shoes, no sense...Those were the days. Of course you can see that the German kids have much better engineered go karts than us scrappy Americans...Typical.

Honeymoon in East Berlin, day one

I don't know about you, but for me nothing says romance quite like a weekend in the former bastion of all things grey and communist. I think this piece of the Berlin Wall appropriately sums up the mere thought of spending one's honeymoon in Berlin:A few weeks after we got married, Q fled the homestead for a two-0month work assignment in Rheine, Germany. I went to visit a couple of weeks ago. We were going to go to Prague for a long weekend, but that would entail too many train rides so we opted for Berlin instead. Note to readers considering a romantic getaway: Berlin should not be on your list.

Q had booked us a room at the Wall Strasse Park Place centrally located in former East Berlin on Wall Strasse (Wall Street). I'm sure you've all heard of the famous East Berlin Stock Exchange? Yes, they are right up there with NASDAQ.

So the hotel took it's location quite seriously. When we checked in there was a huge mural of men in suits catching U.S. dollars as they fell from the sky. We laughed and wondered how such a place got a four star rating.

After checking in we followed the stock ticker carpet (I am not kidding - it was grey with stock market abbreviations and numbers all down the halls) to our room where we found a lovely money theme waiting in our honeymoon suite. Check out the huge dollar bill rug. Again, nothing says happy honeymoon like walking across George Washington's face to get to the bathroom:
But wait, it gets better. The interior decorator really embraced the theme of money and added the lovely touch of having a quote about money written in four languages above the bed:In case you can't read it, it says "Buy stocks and go to sleep for a long time." Now if that doesn't put you in the mood, I don't know what will...

Enough on the accomodations, on to Berlin. We spent our first day walking around the entire city. I wanted to see Checkpoint Charlie, maybe even get a picture of myself running through or past it, right? News flash: Checkpoint Charlie has been removed. There is now a museum for it on the corner of the intersection that replaced it where you can see pictures of the Checkpoint and read about it, but that's it. It was pretty disappointing to see that the biggest crossing area had been dismantled and replaced by none other than a Starbucks (on the former west side, of course). Here's Q taking a picture of some tourists in front of the checkpoint museum while I take a picture of him taking a picture and the Starbucks in the back:Seemed funny at the time. Next we headed up toward the famous Brandenburg Gate, the former formal entry point into the city of Berlin:

Look closely at the picture. See that guy in the white jacket with a hat? See what looks like ears behind him? That's a guy dressed in a bear suit getting paid to take pictures with tourists in front of the gate. I guess he's supposed to be the Berlin Bear, which are sold everywhere but really just seem to be teddy bears in Berlin t-shirts.

The chariot on top of the gate is called a quadriga, and Berlin's is very famous. I zoomed in for a closer shot and think the horses on top look a little crazed if you ask me...Check out those nostrils and eyes!!!
We walked a bit more, using the famous Victory Column, with Golden Lizzy on top, as a guidepost and kept ending up back at the same place, in the middle of an intersection. The sad thing about Berlin is that most of it's historic stuff was destroyed during the war. Then it was all separated by the wall and one side started to restore while the other built over. This results in reconstructed historic buildings next to modern, or not-so-modern, high rises and kind of destroys the feel that you want in a historical city. Where was I? Oh yeah, here's the column:
Golden Lizzy kind of reminds me of Moroni of Mormon cultural significance. I feel sorry for the poor guy who has to polish Lizzy. Someone must because she sure is shiny. I think she should hook up with Moroni sometime:
Speaking of religion, did you know that Scientology is banned as a religion in Germany? Here's a quote from the Scientology vs. Germany website about it:

The German Federal Government maintains that Scientology is an organization which has primarily economical interests. This idea has been reinforced by a ruling of the Federal Labour court (which is not connected to the government in any way). After having reviewed several Scientology books, the judges concluded that Scientology is not a religion, but a commercial enterprise.

Furthermore, the German government maintains that Scientology tries to distribute its ideas as widely as possible, ideally leading to a society where humans life together according to Scientology rules. A closer look at Hubbard's writings shows that this is not desirable since Scientology is structured in a totalitarian, anti-democratic fashion.

No, I didn't know about this until I spoke with a German friend. He was surprised to learn that I had snapped this shot of none other than a multi-lingual Dianetics display at a bookstore just down the street from the Hard Rock Cafe in Berlin itself:
Score one for the commercial enterprise that is organized religion.

Next up: Going to a German nightclub while pregant.

Three things I never thought I'd do that are guaranteed to shock you

1. ATTEND A HASH EVENT SOBER

Yes, I attended the entire 2007 Betty Ford Rehab Hash without imbibing an ounce of alcohol. In case you've forgotten what Betty Ford is, it's that wonderous weekend each year wherein hordes of somewhat disturbed hashers converge upon the sleepy town of Palm Springs, California to run through the streets in lingerie. This was my fourth year making the pilgrimmage and the first time I spent the entire weekend sober. The good thing is that I had my faculties intact and was able to document the event with my digital camera.

Imagine watching these two swing at 1:00 am in an American Legion Hall while completely sober:

Yes, I had to do a double-take on that one too. For those of you ready to be scarred for life, here's the frontal view:I'm not sure which was more frightening either.

Of course, I took my new boyfriend, Q, to Betty Ford with me. I wasn't sure how Q would fare as we'd only been to two rather mellow hash runs together but all my fears were quelled the minute we stepped into Mervyn's in search of plus-size lingerie and he exclaimed that there were no good panties in 2X that I'd found a keeper. In fact, it took him longer to choose his lingerie than it did me. He was torn between the leopard print and a lovely floral with lace. He also noted that next year he'd start shopping earlier. In the end he even borrowed my red feather boa. I was quite proud and as a display of my devotion to him allowed him to borrow my sacred hash mug. Anyone who is a hasher knows this is very symbolic and a sign of complete trust. If you don't understand why, ask MM what happened at the campout when he lost his mug...

One great thing about the weekend was that Q got along well with all my friends. Here he is with BH of Santo Barbara. I'm not sure what they are doing either:
And here he is with BH of blogging fame:
Enough on that, Betty Ford sober was still fun and I certainly got a different perspective on all the excitement that goes on. So, on to the second thing I never thought I'd do:

2. SEE TWO LINES ON A PREGNANCY TEST.


Yes, that means what you think it means. Don't worry, it's not yours. It's Q's and we're pretty darned excited. Shocked beyond belief, but at the same time thrilled beyond comparison. I'm still processing the fact that we are going to be parents and that all these incredible things are going on inside of me. I hear payback is terrible so I'm expecting a wild and unruly child, most likely prone to cross-dressing and mouthing off. Hopefully Q's angelic past will counter some of my youthful indiscretions and the child, currently called Lentil Bean, because that's the size he or she was when we found out, will turn out healthy and well-balanced despite having us as parents. I'm still trying to find the right words to explain this to Lentil when he or she grows up:Any suggestions are greatly appreciated. And finally, thing number three I never thought I'd do is:

3. TIE THE KNOT.

We're getting married. This week. Sunday the 25th to be exact.

Yes, my father is polishing his shotgun. Of course, at our first dinner with my folks after finding out we are pregnant my father had his shotgun on the table the whole time. It was quite amusing.

When you think about it, this is the only way it could happen for a girl like me. Luckily, it happened with the best man I've ever been lucky enough to date and I thank the powers that be for stepping in before I could manage to mess things up.