Well I've got some news and maybe those of you who've had babies before can help me interpret it. I had a pelvic exam (NOT fun) at the clinic yesterday and on the way out the door the nurse said, in an "oh by the way" kind of voice,

"you're 50% effaced, so you might want to take it easy for the next two weeks..."

I tried to grab her but she was already out the door.

That night in childbirth class we watched a birth video (AHH!) and the doctor said to the woman in the video- "You're making great progress- you're now 4 cm dilated and 50% effaced." I was getting a little freaked out about my apparent -in labor- status, and asked the teacher. She said in addition to "taking it easy" I should also not exercise at all, and should be on some form of house arrest. I assume that means I shouldn't have moved all the heavy furniture in the house around last night. Oh well.

Well I called the clinic again, and they said I shouldn't be exercising more than 3 times a week. Who am I supposed to believe? And does it really matter? I mean I'm not exactly doing any jumping jacks lately anyway. And from what I've heard- the baby's not likely to fall out when I stand up from this chair.

I'm sure now that I'm expecting her any minute she'll be a month overdue. I have to admit I'm getting pretty excited.

The Student Financial Services department finally cracked and offered me a job yesterday. I accepted it. Woo-hoo! Baby and I are going to be able to pay rent and eat in the same month! The new gig gets us vision, dental, and health insurance, as well as partial tuition remission and a yacht. Okay, no yacht, but I do get to read confidential tax information. Mad props to all my homies who gave me sweet recs and shouts-out of all kinds.

At the Ash Wednesday service last week it occured to me, while singing one of my favorite Lenten hymns, that Lent this year basically coincides with my third trimester. Sort of alarmingly appropriate. Not that I'm planning on wandering into the desert, and every day in the same house with ice cream attests to the fact that I won't be "tempted and yet undefiled" anytime soon. But still, it's nice to feel liturgical.

I'm going to take a page out of my friend Mosesface's book and make a list. Maybe a little self-indulgent, but I hope it will make me feel better. It's a cloudy day, which in LA looks orangy-brown and terrifying, and I've recently become overwhelmed by the fact that I moved into my house 5 months ago and haven't yet hung up the pictures. So here goes. Some of these things are contingent on an influx of cash but mostly they involve jettisoning the fetus. I'm looking forward to:

vodka and sprite
getting off a couch in 5 minutes or less
wearing clothes I like
seeing the lower half of my body
seeing Wren
strangers -not- touching my stomach
being naseated for a GOOD reason, like bad chinese, not just as a default state
anonymity in public places
buying new clothes. that's a big one.
roller coasters
water slides
HOT baths
trampoline gymnastics (okay not really)
unlimited guilt free diet dr pepper
coffee
margaritas
painting my toenails
somersaults
no more sciatica
sleeping on my stomach
sleeping on my back
getting my balance back (HA)
seeing Lazlo try not to throw up when Wren's born
seeing Lazlo hold a baby (for maybe the third time in his life)
seeing Lazlo change a diaper.... a cloth diaper... with pins
seeing everyone who comes to visit the baby

Well I finished it off nice and sweet, and I feel a little better. Lazlo did a proof read and saved all you delicate readers from the more embarassing things I'm looking forward to. It's a good thing for everyone he was here before I posted.

So I went to a psuedo-interview at the library a few weeks ago. I met everyone and talked to a REALLY nice woman about working there and she pretty much told me that if I sent in an application she'd find me a job. Well, this being a Fuller library, I assumed I would never hear anything about it again.

Those seminary tricksters fooled me again- I went by last week and they did in fact offer me a job...

VOLUNTEERING.

Um, thanks. So far know-how, availability, skills, nepotism, and interviews for a number of positions I am qualified to fill haven't gotten me a job at Fuller. Maybe working for free will be my lucky break. So I say I'll be there, at the library, bright and early on Monday morning. Guess who doesn't show up... my fake-boss. I don't so much mind waking up, walking to campus and waiting around if I'm getting paid for it, but doing it for nothing is different. I feel like people should be nice to volunteers, especially pregnant volunteers.

This whole waiting around for people to show up thing is sadly familiar, as it's what I do everytime someone signs up at the writing center (my other imaginary job) and then doesn't show up. I should have titled this entry -Inconsiderate Seminarians-.

Sorry my tone is so bitter. I miss my dog. I know she's in great hands with Fist (ha ha) but I wish there was a way she could have stayed in sunny dog-hating So Cal with Lazlo and me. Driving to El Paso and back is never fun, and carrying the equivalent of an organ crushing bowling ball on my lap did not enhance the experience. Camping with Fist was nice, and White Sands was incredible- I definitely want to go back post-baby and roll down some dunes- but overall I'd rather not have given Ramona away.

Poor little bitch.

It turns out my potential-future-boss is a tease. He called me to his office to ask me some questions about the first interview. This must have been a "second interview." I feel like I returned this volley pretty well, but I am not pleased that I didn't find out whether or not I have the damned job. He also didn't give me any idea when I was going to find out. It was not encouraging, but it wasn't really discouraging either.

For those of you who don't know, I had a jorb interview about two weeks ago. I felt like it went very well, and one of my recommenders is my potential-future-boss's boss. Also, I'm well-qualified for the job, so I've been sort of expecting to get it. It would be great if I did, because I would make a lot more money, and Baby and I could afford this lavish champagne-and-fritos lifestyle we've been living. (Actually, it would not quite bump us out of the state-provided healthcare bracket, but it would put us above the poverty line finally.) ANYWAY, all that to say that I MAY FIND OUT THIS AFTERNOON. So, you will experience vicariously my glorious victory or staggering defeat.

Speaking of which, my dog is getting the boot. It turns out that my evil apartment overlords have decided that they DO care about the pet weight limit (which I had been assured they did not), and they're kicking my puppy out in the cold. Or in this case, the warm. So, Baby and I are probably going to drive to El Paso this weekend and hand Ramona off to Fist (Baby's sister) for another few months of doggie camp / free pet-sitting. I don't know what we'd do without Fist. The plan now is to let her sit the dog for a few months, and look for a dog-friendly place to move once Baby and THE baby have recovered. Around July, we hope. So, if you have a cheap, two-bedroom, dog-friendly place for rent in Pasadena, Alta Dena, Highland Park, Eagle Rock, North Central LA (on the Gold Line), Glendale, or North Hollywood (in decreasing order of preference), let me know.

Peace out. I expect that everybody will be biting their fingernails until I post this afternoon.

P.S. BOOKS DIED ON has some new material you should listen to.