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: