I could just as easily have titled this post _Heart of Darkness_. I guess it depends on your perspective on pregnancy and your taste in high school required reading. At least _1984_ isn't in the running yet, although I've heard some women experience paranoia in the thrid trimester. That's all to say that this post is more or less about being five months pregnant, so if you're not interested...

A few nights ago I was feeling a little strange (I'm omitting details, not because they're gross, but because my public is apparently ridiculously squeamish- you know who you are) and so I opted out of going to dinner with people from church. Instead I demanded and consumed ludicrous amounts of fried rice and went to sleep around 8 PM. In the morning none of my pants fit. I could blame Panda Express, but I think Milagro is the likelier culprit.

My wardrobe was decimated. I was left with only a few skirts, and they fell into two camps. There were the skirts that sit semi-indecently low, under the baby, and these are fine for the most part, except for entering or exiting cars, or really sitting at all in public. Then there were the more depressing skirts, what I'll call the "wooden jewelry" skirts. These, when pulled up and fastened above my natural waist can be combined with a seasonal cardigan or light sweater, to remind me of every elementary school teacher I ever had.

So I went emergency maternity shopping. Somehow not as exciting as it sounds, although the attachable velcro belly was pretty freaking cool. I got a pair of pants that doesn't strangle Milagro, and the next day, I got a big fat package full of maternity clothes from Target, thanks to Millie. Woo-hoo! In a side note, I think it's a little mean-spirited of Target to always put the maternity section right next to the women's plus sizes. I guess they think once we hit that side of the store we're never coming back.

I also scheduled my 3D ultrasound for two weeks away. I'm excited, and a little terrified. We're taking a VHS to record it, and we'll get to see the baby up close, it's face, fingers, toes, spine, penis or (hopefully not and) vagina. It could suck it's thumb, or yawn or smile. Also though, we could find out if there's something massively wrong. I feel a little like I did in school, a week before a test I wasn't prepared for. Like if for the next two weeks I eat REALLY healthy meals, and walk 30 minutes a day, and don't inhale any second hand smoke, the baby will be fine. It didn't work in Algebra, I don't know why it would work now.

On the lighter side, Lazlo discovered that our hand wash has St. John's Wort in it, one of those random things that counter-acts birth control pills. We thought about it for a few minutes and remembered that we hadn't used it before I got pregnant, and really what are the chances anyway... but still it would be pretty funny. Hand wash. And you thought you were just being hygenic.

Everybody but me seems to have musings. Most blogs I read are just interesting thoughts that run through the author's head at some point in the day. I almost never do that. I wonder why. I also wonder why this Microsoft Natural Keyboard is hurting my wrists so badly.

There. I put it on my lap.

This thing sucks. ARGH.

Anyway, I haven't made an entry in a while, and I'm determined to do it, even if I fgive myself carpal tunnel sundrome in the process. i just figured otu that it's the backspace key that hurts, so i'm not going to use that key until i find another keyboard. you're getting me unbackspaced here. sort of a "no BS zone." (it's an abbreviation joke, get it?_)

I've been busy with school as of late, which is why you haven't heard from me at this venue in some time. Grad school is great. It's the first school I've ever been to where required reading and studying were actually required. By which I don't mean that my profs even -care- whether i've read or not, or if I have my book in class, or whether I even own the book; I just mean that if you don't read, you fail.

Unless you're the guy who sits next to me in my Greek class. He looks to be in his late 40's, and I realized yesterday that he almost never has his book. Yet somehow, he translates sentences off the board in his head. (We haven't even learned verbs yet, and I usually have to look up at least two words per sentence.)

The best thing, so far, about grad school is that dumb people (and there are a few here and there) generally don't seem to feel free to speak up in class. This was my biggest peeve with college and high school; the rule, it seems, is that the less intelligent a student is, the more likely he is to try to make a point out loud. Fortunately, professors (and fellow students, I guess), don't pander to that kind of crap around here. If your point doesn't make sense, or is incredibly obvious, the professor won't embarass you in front of the class (usually), but you can be sure that he isn't going to struggle to make you look good. I like that.

Anyway, sorry about the lack of correspondence. I know how many people depend on me and Baby for daily entertainment*.

* (None.)